Hair of the Grim
by Nightmare Sired Muse
Summary: They say there are many things a wizard shouldn't do while ridiculously drunk; flying, apparition, and testing unknown spells just to name a few. But as the BWL just learned, listening to one of your equally as drunk godfather's 'brilliant ideas' is another one of the things you just shouldn't do. Powerful-Harry/Lily Evans/Lily Luna Potter pseudo-INCEST Time travel Marauder Era
1. Chapter 1 Awakening

**AN: Welcome to "Hair of the Grim". It would be wise to read everything in bold-print before continuing on to the story. **

**Disclaimer (I'll only be doing this once): I do not own the rights to Harry Potter. This story is being written as a form of personal entertainment that anyone is allowed to enjoy with me. I am in no way earning anything through the creation of this fic.**

**Warnings: INCEST (please no complaining about it since it's going to happen), alcohol use, violence, strong language, lemons, time and dimension travel, and possible character death. This will be AU as well as taking place in the Marauder Era. Harry will be powerful in this fic and possess a gray to dark alignment.**

**Pairing: Harry / Lily Evans / Lily Luna Potter (As Joe Lawyer so aptly said "rounds out the whole forbidden fruit angle quite well"). I'm a freak, I know—but the thought of Lily / Harry and Harry / Lily Luna relationships intrigued the hell out of me. And as warning beforehand, this Harry isn't the same as the one from J.K.'s canon. If he wants something he'll go for it. Don't expect him to shy away from his feelings because of westernized taboos—taboos, no less, that were hinted at being broken in canon. Incest WILL. TAKE. PLACE! **

**AN2(7/19): After reading over the reviews I've received thus far, I've found the general consensus to be that many don't view this story as incest. Personally, I do. However, I've decided that I would make a small change to the summary of the story and will let each individual reader decide for themselves whether or not they categorize what happens in this story as incest or not. Either way, all reviews are welcome.**

**The beta for this chapter was Joe Lawyer (hopefully he'll agree to take up the mantle of fulltime beta). He did an amazing job catching my bad habits—thank you, Joe.**

Softness.

It was the first and most dominant sensation Harry experienced upon regaining consciousness. It enveloped his lips like liquid velvet in a way only a woman's cupid-bow lips could, pressing deeply into his rising and falling chest—sensually matching his every panted breath—kneading perfectly between his lingering fingers as he desperately attempted to melt into _it_, whatever _it_ was.

Slowly, as if his mind was trapped within a cotton-like haze, Harry began to regain his bearings. And though he wanted to give his very being to the enchanting satin his senses were attempting to drown him in, an incessant nagging at the back of his mind demanded he break from this slice of sinful-bliss and focus on something it deemed far more important. What could be more important than the delicious pressure grinding against the tightness in his pants? Harry wasn't sure. It wasn't until the "softness" _spoke,_ that he truly understood the urgency of the persistent voice within his mind.

"It seems you've gone and improved once again," purred a husky voice into the shell of his ear. "What delicious fun did you have without me this summer, Sirius?"

As if struck by lightning, Harry gave a sudden dog-like yelp, forcibly trying to distance himself from the stranger he found himself embracing so intimately. His attempt at freedom, however, would lead to far more trouble than he had bargained for. As his legs were slightly entwined with the mystery person's, he clumsily stumbled backwards, away from the warmth of their enticing presence. Fortunately, before he could land painfully on his rear, a wall, or judging by its give, a door, slowed his momentum. Unfortunately, his weight, combined with the force of his fall, proved to be too much for his momentary savior to withstand.

The sound of shattering glass and hinges being violently torn from their wooden structures echoed painfully within his head. Desperately he tried to grasp at something that would stop or even slow his fall, but was left sorely wanting when he found no purchase with which to save himself. Seconds before the bone-jarring impact would send waves of searing pain up his tailbone and spine, he was able to catch a glimpse of tantalizing flesh and cascading curls of a sandy-hue.

His back screamed in pain as bits of broken glass dug mercilessly into his bare skin, as the last Potter struggled to still the sudden swimming in his head. Ignorant of the outbursts of shock of those around him slowly morphing into a chortling at his expense, he sluggishly tried to right himself without aggravating the glass shards reeking-havoc upon his flesh.

"Why am I _not_ surprised?" a feminine and unexpectedly familiar voice sighed, cutting through the growing laughter—of which Harry was only beginning to register—and the dense fog clouding his thoughts.

Where had he heard that voice before? It sounded so familiar, like he had known it since birth—an intimate knowledge as well-known to him as the rhythm of his heart. Yet, for some unknown reason, he felt as if something were off about it.

'_As if the tone is all wrong,' _he mused drunkenly. Shaking his head in a very dog-like manner, he dispersed the last vestiges of dizziness from his mind as the voice continued on with its berating of Sirius.

"Not even halfway to Hogwarts and already you're starkers." The voice, which was now closer than it had been just seconds before, sounded both exasperated and resigned by what its owner was witnessing. "And wherever a naked Sirius Black is, a poor, helpless girl will follow, foolishly hoping they'll be the one to change-"

"Sirius!" they gasped, breaking from their tangent. It was obvious to Harry, who had yet to open his eyes for fear of becoming sick, that the girl was frightened by what she saw. A sense of dread bloomed within the pit of his stomach at the thought of what form of horrific scene lay before her. After all, the last time he had seen Sirius was moments before they began performing a ritual that was by no means considered "light magic."

Worried about his godfather, Harry ignored the pain dancing upon his nerve endings in time with his heartbeat and forced himself into a sitting position. His world was full of pain; the stabbing in his back now being mimicked in the palms of his hands as he fought for balance. He never expected a pair of soft, delicate hands to be laid gently across his shoulders.

"Don't move around so much; you'll only make the bleeding worse," his aid gently ordered.

"Sirius," he hissed, his call weak even to his ears.

"Yes, you're Sirius Black—infamous man-slag of Hogwarts. An idiot who's gone and got himself hurt because he can't keep it in his trousers."

Confused by the girl's words, Harry forced himself to swallow down the acidic taste coating his mouth, slowly opening his eyes as he spoke. "What are you on about? I'm not… Sirius…"

The various aches and pains plaguing his body, the nausea twisting at his stomach, the laughter and catcalls playing on the air—it _all_ died away as he gazed into the most amazing pair of emerald eyes he had ever seen. Eyes set in a soft, heart-shaped face, suspended over the softest looking heart shaped lips and framed by silky, flowing red tresses. They were his eyes… or rather Lily Potter's eyes.

"M-mum?" Harry's voice broke over the word he had never before used when addressing another living person. Eyes stinging with unshed tears, he searched her face hungrily, the fear that he was dreaming and could awake at any moment spurring him to take in every minute detail of her features and store it forever in his memory.

Here before him sat the very woman who had given birth to him; a woman who had been dead for more than forty-seven years. A woman who wasn't a woman at all yet, but only a girl, of what Harry could only guess was about fourteen or fifteen years old, dressed in her Hogwarts' uniform, the Gryffindor prefect badge pinned proudly to her chest.

The only thing capable of diverting his attention away from the stunning features of the girl who would grow up to become his mother, was the girl herself. It was her eyes, the way she fixed him with a stunned, disbelieving look that succeeded in bringing him back to reality and the present moment.

"Sirius, your eyes?!"

The guffawing, which had spread like wildfire upon hearing him call her "mum," quickly died away as the group of students surrounding them saw what it was that she talking about.

"What are you on about?" he asked, hoping as he did so that he didn't sound rude. He'd probably never forgive himself if he were to alienate the girl in front of him. "Why do you keep calling me Sirius?" Lily balked at his response, looking unsure as to what to say or do.

"Rosmerta, help me get him into the compartment," the redhead called, throwing a look over her shoulder. "And for Morgana's sake, close your blouse! We don't need _that_ kind of attention right now!"

Following the path of her eyes with his own, Harry gained his first view of who it was he had been "embracing" before he had, literally, fell through the door. Standing idly nearby framed by the open doorway, as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place, was a young, seventeen year old Madam Rosmerta. Her thin Hogwarts' blouse laid completely unbuttoned, exposing her black lacy bra and the fleshy orbs it emphasized oh so perfectly; this combined with her sexily mussed locks and the swelling of her ruby-lips painted a very salacious picture.

Paying Lily's words no mind, the young Rosmerta exited her cabin at a leisurely pace, crouching down opposite of the prefect as she took him by the arm. Harry, like many of those surrounding them, watched the gentle, hypnotizing sway of the girl's impressive bust. Being closer to her than the rest, he was treated to the sight of her shorter-than-was-regulation-approved Hogwarts' skirt, rise dangerously up her creamy white thighs. Apparently Rosmerta, even at this age, was very proud of what she been gifted with at birth. It was clear that she had no intention of hiding her body, not when it garnered her as much positive attention as it was now.

"Come on, Black," Rosmerta purred into his ear, as she, with Lily's aid, helped lift _Harry_ to his feet. "We'll get you fixed up right as rain, and then we can get back to more _pleasant_ _activities_."

Distracted as he was by the firm, semi-bare chest pressing pleasantly into his arm on one side, and the presence of his presently teenaged mother on the other, Harry caught the promiscuous girl's use of Sirius' family name. An all too familiar sense of dread that Harry had come to be very intimate with in his almost fifty years of life descended upon the Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble Houses of Potter and Black.

'_Sirius said little about the possible unintended side effects of the ritual.'_

Allowing himself to be guided, he noticed for the first time the blurring of the landscape outside. This, accompanied by the assortment of teens in various states of muggle and wizard dress, and what Lily and Rosmerta had said thus far, led him to the conclusion that he was upon the Hogwarts Express; no doubt carrying the student population of Britain's most prominent school of magic toward the waiting castle in Scotland.

It was as they stumbled into the privacy of the compartment, Lily having struggled with his weight whilst using her wand to reparo the one he had damaged, that Harry caught sight of his reflection in the window. It had only been a flash, the light having caught the glass at exactly the right angle and moment, but he had seen it as clear as day. Standing in his place, supported by the very witches that currently had their arms wrapped around his middle, was a green-eyed, fifteen year old, Sirius Orion Black. Gone were the storm-gray eyes Sirius had inherited from his father, replaced by the shining emeralds of the petite girl now supporting his weight. Not that she knew that, of course.

The girls were only just able to get him to one of the cushioned benches in time to keep the stunned "teen" from experiencing a second painful fall.

"Go find Potter and Narcissa! Maybe one of them will know what's come over him."

Seeing how serious the situation was becoming, Rosmerta refrained from acting her usual flirty self, hastily fumbling with the buttons of her blouse as she made for the door. "And what if they don't know what's wrong with him, then what?"

"Then we'll have no choice but to go to the Head Girl and Boy." Pursing her lips, Lily sent the near catatonic teen a concerned look. "But not until we know we can't do anything for him. Cissy's been giving some real thought to becoming a Healer after Hogwarts, and has been studying healing magic in her free time. I'm hoping she'll know something that will help his back."

While Sirius may have been a part of _that_ immature prat's gang and a natural born troublemaker to boot, she didn't think he should get in trouble for doing what he and Rosmerta were up to, no matter how perverse and unbecoming she found it to be. The trouble was that if they were forced to seek the aid of someone in a higher position of authority than herself, they would be obligated to explain the events leading up to Sirius' current condition, or chance missing an important detail that could be used to possibly help him. Sirius and Rosmerta would get in trouble for something that should be strictly private between them, and Lily was of the mind that it should stay that way.

Turning back to Sirius as the door closed behind Rosmerta, Lily knelt before him so as to better look into the eyes that now inexplicably mirrored her own. "Sirius," she called in a hushed tone, taking his face in her hands and forcing him to meet her gaze. "You need to tell me what happened. How did you end up falling through the compartment door, and… and what's happened to your eyes?"

Eyes sharpening, Harry fixed his mother with a gaze of such incredible intensity that it brought an almost unnoticeable dusting of red to her cheeks. "What year is it?"

"W-what?"

"What's today's date?"

"September 1st, 1975," she answered hesitantly. "Sirius, are you alright? Did you hit your head when you fell?" Removing one of her hands from his face, she gently ghosted her hand through his hair, searching for any injuries that may have gone unnoticed until then.

"And you're Lily Po- Evans? Daughter of Rose and Timothy Evans, sister to Petunia?" Slowly taking her hand from his long raven-locks and his angular features, her look of concern began shifting to one of confusion.

"I am… How did you know all that?" she questioned, her tone bordering on demanding. "I've never spoken to you about my family before—not that we've ever really spoken in the first place!"

Lily had become slightly nervous by the questions this emerald-eyed Sirius Black was asking her. So when his response was to break out in his well-known barking-laughter, she was left a little unsure as to how to proceed. What she hadn't been expecting, however, was for the normally cocky Gryffindor to give her the most loving and genuine smile she had ever received. The look left her feeling vulnerable and her stomach in knots.

Blush reappearing, she was seconds away from smacking the perverse boy upside the head—he had no right to look at her like _that_—but before she could act, she found herself being pulled into his chest for a tight embrace she wouldn't have seen coming even had she been born a true seer.

In years past, Lily had been subjected many times to the inane cooing and gossiping of her roommates, and the general female population of Hogwarts, concerning how attractive the bigheaded Black heir was. Personally, she had never seen what the others saw in him. Sure, he was attractive, excelled in his studies and was, she grudgingly admitted, intelligent when he applied himself. He also had that whole "bad-boy," rebel image going for him that so many girls her age and even those quite a bit older found extremely desirable. But unlike so many others, Lily wasn't blinded to his faults, simply because he was pleasing to the eye. His arrogance was unrivaled by all with the exception of his best friend. The trail of broken hearts he had left in his wake since late in his second year when he had discovered the pleasures of the opposite sex were impressive in number. Lily found herself hard-pressed to find any real appeal in the dark haired youth. But now that she was so close to him, flush with his lean, muscled-form, her head full of his intoxicating and masculine scent that was tinted with the smell of the dragon hide he always appeared to be wearing and… _was that a hint of motor oil? _She wasn't so sure anymore. All this, coupled with the sight of such a caring and loving look gracing his eyes and playing upon his lips when looking at her… Lily was starting to see what all the fuss over Sirius Black was about… If only just barely.

Lost in her own thoughts and enjoying being held so intimately by a member of the opposite sex for the first time—not that she would ever admit as much, especially to the one doing the holding—Lily, nor Harry, noticed the group about to intrude upon their private little moment.

"Why are you here, _Snivellus_?" James Potter angrily growled, opening the door to the cabin his best mate was said to be in. "Don't you have a cauldron to hover your nose over? This has nothing to do with yo-"

James' words died on his lips upon seeing the scene before him. The contingent following the Potter heir were just as shocked to see two people who had barely spoken to one another outside of trading barbs, embracing—one of which was partially naked.

Peter Pettigrew, a small and mousy teen, leaned around his two mates, James and Remus, taking great care not to touch the Slytherin boy accompanying them or the two beauties which had led them here. Seeing just what had stunned the others into silence, he was barely able to restrain the snickers that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Looks like Sirius took your girlfriend before you ever got the chance to confess!" Who Peter was talking to, whether it was James or Severus, both of whom were well known for having an unrequited crush on the red haired fifth year, no one knew.

"LILY!"

"WHAT THE HELL, SIRIUS!" Jerking apart as if burned, Lily and Harry, not that anyone knew who he truly was, looked shocked, and in Lily's case embarrassed, to find themselves no longer alone.

Harry, or rather Sirius, smiled brightly at the sight of his father and pseudo-uncle. Overjoyed by this turn of events, he jumped to his feet intent on giving both men the biggest hug he could muster. But before he could reach either boy, he found himself relying on the battle-sharpened instincts which had kept him alive through three separate wizarding wars and had allowed him to vanquish numerous fledging and even several established Dark Lords the world over.

Throwing up his empty hand, he wandlessly summoned the wand the dark haired Slytherin had been seconds away from cursing him with. In the silence that descended upon the cabin after his display of wandless magical ability, Harry's attention was directed to the hand holding Snape's wand. Wrapped around his index and middle fingers were two rings that he was intimately familiar with, having worn them for decades.

The Potter and Black head of house rings.

Both rings were simple, but elegant affairs, a style that many of Britain's older and more prominent families of the time favored. The Potter ring had a band made from the only metal known to be magically conductive, Mithril. The Black family ring was of a similar design, a halo carved from a Garnet, said to have been found in the stomach of the dragon slain by the first Black to enter the lands now known as Britain over a millennia ago. Both lacked the gaudy, oftentimes overly large stones that were so commonly found on the rings of Britain's "younger" noble houses. Atop their surfaces, carved into the metal and gem alike, were the identifying crests of each house upon their respective rings.

'_This situation just went from being to my advantage, to being the likely worst case scenario. With the exception of my eyes, none of my other possessions traveled back with me; so it would stand to reason the rings I now possess are the same as those Charlus and Orion should currently hold as the heads of the Potter and Black families.'_ Paying the gaping he was receiving little mind, Harry sat back down, absentmindedly tossing the stunned, teenager version of Snape his wand as he did so.

The ancient family magics of Black and Potter recognized the strongest and most worthy of their bloodlines as the head of their respective families—an ancient magic embedded within the rings upon their creation to insure that each family was protected long into the future by their most deserving and capable members. If he now possessed them, it was his guess that the rings upon his arrival in this time and dimension had recognized his many varied exploits, achievements and overall magical ability—perhaps even recognizing and accepting that in his time and world he was the head of both families for decades—and had then given him with their allegiance and all their respective powers that came with them.

'_Charlus will be devastated by this.'_ Harry's thoughts travelling to the image of his grandfather, realizing he'd never be able to pass on the Potter family ring to James. Though he knew the predicament they were in wasn't his fault or intent, he couldn't escape the slight guilt this line of thinking brought him.

'_The question now is how should I proceed from here on out? Do I contact Charlus about the rings' transfer to myself? Keeping my anonymity would allow me to move without the restrictions that could possibly arise if word were to spread that I usurped control of not only the Black family and its vast fortune, but that of the Potter's as well'_

"Sirius."

Looking up from his clenched hand and ending his all consuming thoughts, he saw that it was Remus who had spoken his name. The young werewolf was gazing at him with unmasked concern upon his youthful face. Life had yet to truly break the spirit of this version of the werewolf, and if Harry had his way, it never would.

"Sirius, you need to let Narcissa see if she can do anything for your back. It looks quite bad," he observed, his normally soft voice coming out as barely a whisper. "Your hands aren't looking any better either."

Harry smiled kindly at the gentle teen. It was obvious that Remus was worried that after his display of wandless magic that he might react badly to anything he saw as a threat.

"There's no need to hold your breath, Moony. I'm not off my rocker, just a bit addled after my fall."

"Moony?" Remus mimicked, paling at the nickname he'd just received. Unnoticed by all but his fellow Marauders, the timid boy sent the other occupants of the cabin worried glances as he wrapped his arms around his middle protectively. It was as if he thought that doing so would shield him and his secret from the world for a little while longer.

Harry silently cursed at himself; he'd been present in this time and place for less than an hour and already he had made a significant mistake. It wasn't until after the Marauders had discovered their animagus forms that Remus received his fitting nickname. Before his arrival, James and his group would have discovered their inner animals sometime after returning to Hogwarts—an event Harry was unsure if he would be aiding or hindering.

"Sorry 'bout that, Remy," Harry chuckled, making sure the attention stayed on him and away from the obviously uncomfortable teen. "Just something I thought I'd try out. Doesn't quite fit though. I'll keep trying."

"As interesting as this is, _dear cousin_, I had better see to your back. If you lose any more blood the world may be without its _precious_ Black heir." From behind the group of fifth year boys, all of whom towered over the petite form easily maneuvering between them, came a blonde beauty Harry hadn't seen in more than two decades.

"Narcissa," he nodded.

He didn't receive any form of reply from her. Stepping well into his personal space, she took him by the shoulder, her touch far more rough and demanding than that of Lily's. She then turned him so that his damaged back was visible to them all. Judging by the sounds of shock mingled with those of disgust, Harry assumed his back—or was it still Sirius'—was one of the more gruesome sights the gathered had witnessed up to this point in their short and relatively sheltered lives. After a lifetime of bloody war and combat, most of which he found himself actively seeking out in the latter part of his life, he had experienced pains and forms of torture which made the mess that was his back comparable to the annoyance of a persistent gnat. Though even he would readily admit that his new body wasn't as accustomed to pain as his old one had been.

"Bloody hell, Black. Next time you've got me on your own, try not to almost die—it's a bit of a mood killer!" Harry chuckled at that, catching a blushing Remus burying his face in his hands to the chorus of chuckles and sounds of disgust her comment drew.

"It's not as bad as it appears," Narcissa observed, speaking more to herself than to him or any who were present. The same stoic look she had worn since arriving had yet to waver from her aristocratic features, Harry noted, as he watched her examine him over his shoulder.

"The reason there's such a copious amounts of blood, is that the majority of the glass from the window embedded within the skin. And while none of the glass is deep enough to be immediately lethal, if it were to be left as is, you'd bleed out relatively quickly."

"I was hoping you'd know some spells that could help him," Lily revealed, as she stepped into Sirius' and Narcissa's line of sight. "I thought it a better alternative to going to the Head Girl and having to explain the events leading up to his condition."

Narcissa nodded, emotionlessly. "I can help, but I may be unable to stop it from scarring." Lily grimaced.

"Then go ahead," Harry told her, sounding flippant. His casual tone caused Lily to look at him as if he were crazy. Catching her observing him, he sent her a serene smile that wouldn't have looked out of place on the face of Harry Potter, but was extremely unusual upon the lips of Sirius Black. "What's a few scars here and there? It's not a matter of having scars or even where they're located, but in how you wear them. That's what truly matters."

Like the rest of the compartment, Lily was a little awed by the wisdom in the teen's words. She scrutinized him unabashedly, unblinking even, as if for the first time in her life she was seeing the true Sirius Black.

"Sirius, I believe that may be the single most eloquent thing you've ever said." Remus lightly ran his hand over the three thin scars that had been present on his face for years now, feeling for the first time that their presence didn't mean that he was a hideous monster.

Before anymore could be said, Lily spoke up. "Sirius, what's happened to your eyes?" His behavior, both earlier and now, were different from anything she had ever witnessed from him. She knew from her time spent studying advanced runes, charms and potions texts, all of which were branches of magic she excelled in, that there were ways to replicate and copy a person's appearance. Could it be that the person before them wasn't Sirius Black at all? It would certainly explain his changed mannerisms and personality.

Ignoring the slight nervousness gnawing at the pit of his stomach, he gave a bewildered jerk of his shoulders. "Don't know for sure. Metamorphmagus have been known to appear in the Black family line from time to time—maybe I awoke a minor ability for it?"

Looking to Narcissa for any sign that he was lying, Lily nodded when her blonde friend indicated he was in fact telling the truth.

"What the bloody hell were you two doing in here?!" James yelled, finally losing control of his poorly restrained temper. Now that he knew his best mate was going to be fine, he could get to the bottom of why Sirius had had his hands on his Lily. "Why were you two… all… you know!" Flailing his arms about wildly, he gestured at Lily and Harry.

"That's not important right now," Narcissa cut in before a red faced Lily could hex the Potter heir. "I need to focus on his wounds. You can learn later why Lily would rather snog with Siri instead of you or Sev." Allowing the smallest of mischievous smiles to cross her dainty lips, the daughter of Black turned from the stunned and, in Remus', Peter's and Rosmerta's case, laughing group, to jab her wand into her cousin's back, hitting him with a stunner.

_**Hair of the Grim**_

"Honestly, Sev! For the last time, it wasn't like _that_. He was disoriented after falling and latched on to the first person to get close to him—me. What was I supposed to do, throw a severely injured person off of me?"

"Yes," Severus hissed emphatically, as if she should have known as much. Seeing her look of anger at his words, the greasy haired teen sighed dejectedly. "It's Black, Lily. Everyone knows any move he makes is done with the express purpose of getting into someone's knickers firmly in his mind. This time it's yours!"

Ignoring the red now staining her best friend's cheek, Lily glared disapprovingly at the boy she had been friends with since before they received their Hogwarts letters.

"Calm down, Snivellus," James called from his place on the opposite side of the compartment. Sitting next to Peter, playing a hand of exploding snap, he appeared to be intently focused on the game as he spoke. "Don't you have a potion you can go get hot and bothered over?"

After hearing Lily and Rosmerta's explanation of the events prior to their arrival, James had calmed down considerably. Knowing that it had been the blow to his friend's head that had resulted in his having hugged Lily as he had, and that he hadn't, in fact, suddenly become interested in her, was enough for the Potter to dismiss all of his worries and return to business as usual.

Severus turned to sneer at the antagonistic Gryffindor, for the moment completely forgetting the argument he had just been having with his long-time crush in favor of returning his rival's taunt. "That's rich coming from someone who loves having long shafts of polished wood tucked securely between his arse-cheeks for hours at a time."

"W-what?" sputtered James, flipping Peter off as the boy struggled for air through a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Severus smiled victoriously at the person he hated most in this world, taking immense joy in his momentary victory over the boy he was proud to say was his complete opposite.

"You heard me. For someone who's always talking about his conquests, you tend to spend a considerable amount of time with a broom up your arse. Not to mention that after all that time spent _practicing_, you go on to spend even more time with your _teammates_ in the men's showers. Sounds pretty suspicious, if you ask me!" By now the laughter had spread from Peter to a majority of the cabin, causing James' to flush a red reminiscent to that on the Gryffindor symbol upon his robes.

"You greasy haired son of a bit-"

"Can you two save us the headache and just go find a broom closet to solve your problems in?" Harry asked upon awakening. Slowly pushing himself up from his place on the bench where he had been stunned. He ran a hand through his now long, silky hair. _'That's going to take some getting used to.'_

"Sirius!" Lily and Remus cried in unison.

"All of the unresolved sexual tension between you two is giving me a headache." he groaned, sending James a mischievous smirk that was tainted with a grimace. "Where's blondie at? I owe her for fixing me up and that dirty use of a stunner."

"She and Rosmerta left after they knew you were okay." Lily revealed as she took a seat beside him. If she noticed the dirty look Severus gave her for doing so, she hid it well. "Cissy said that she had more important things to do than watch you sleep. Rosmerta… well, she stayed long enough to see you get healed, then went off in search of _Rosmerta_ type activities." Harry laughed.

"Yeah, I sometimes wonder if she's part succubus," he admitted truthfully, his words coming forth without any conscious thought on his part.

His laughter abruptly died as he realized that he recalled the entirety of Rosmerta's and Sirius' earlier encounter, and not only that, but all the intimate moments that they had ever shared. The more he looked back, sorting through the new, foreign memories that had invaded his mind while he was unconscious, the more of Sirius' life he was able to recall. Memories of ugly fights with Orion and Walburga over matters of blood purity and who he associated with, mixed and mingled with the many delights and joys he experienced when running around Hogwarts with the rest of the Marauders. Girls he had never before seen or heard about, he now knew _intimately_—Sirius seemed to have spent a considerable amount of time learning the locations of all the broom closets around Hogwarts.

It was enough to bring the "new" lord of the Black and Potter families up short. As a famous celebrity and powerful wizard Lord in his own life he'd been around the block, so to speak, but Sirius had taken it to a whole new level.

"How close to Hogwarts are we?" he asked, trying for small talk to lighten the mood as he continued to sort through the fifteen years of memories he had awoken with. Advanced occlumency techniques were a godsend for this task.

"It was a little over half an hour ago that they announced we'd be arriving soon." Dressed in his school robes like everyone else in the cabin with the exception of Harry, Remus laid his charms textbook aside, sending him a worried look. "How are you feeling; are there any lingering pains in your back or hands?"

Getting to his feet, he twisted and turned at odd angles, bending and stretching his body as he tested for any leftover soreness or injuries Narcissa may have missed. As he did so, he noticed that Sirius at this age had a body that was much more physically fit than his own at age fifteen, but was still nowhere near the hardened and ever combat ready body of a veteran of three wars. He'd need to set up a regimen to get back in form as soon as possible.

"Besides feeling as if Hagrid's taken a beater's bat to my head, I'm feeling fine."

Seeing that Remus and Peter were sharing a laugh at his expense, Harry stopped his motions to raise a questioning eyebrow at the two. "What?" he asked, focusing more on Remus than Peter. There were far too many conflicting emotions at work when it came to the future rat animagus for him to deal with the teen levelheadedly at the moment.

Not saying a word, an amused Remus nodded his head toward the three remaining occupants in the compartment. Turning, Harry found himself being glared at by a seething Severus and an exasperated and annoyed looking James.

"Isn't it time you put on your uniform, Sirius?" Blushing madly, Lily had turned to face the window, fixedly watching the shadows blurring past to avoid seeing the half-naked teen moving about provocatively.

More disturbed by _his_ lack of concern that his mother had reacted in such a manner to his body, than he was by her actual reaction, Harry gave a distracted flip of his hand and summoned the top half of his uniform.

"How did you do that?!" No longer facing the window, Lily's face shined brightly at the prospect of learning something new. Her natural curiosity and hunger for knowledge was on full display for all the boys to see, making the naturally stunning girl all the more appealing in that moment. "We're not supposed to learn non-verbal casting until sixth year, and I've never heard of someone casting spells without a wand or some form of focus!"

"I'll answer your questions if you answer one of mine," Harry proposed, grasping at straws with which he could distract the group's attention away from his sudden increase in magical ability. Even Severus had stopped his glaring long enough to stop and hear what he had to say, as any good Slytherin would do when the opportunity for more power reared its head.

The reason behind his hesitation to show off his magical prowess wasn't that he didn't want them to know of his capabilities—quite the opposite in fact. If people respected one thing more than money, looks and pedigree in the magical world, it was raw magical power and genius—both of which Harry had prodigiously. No, it was more that he was unsure if it would be wise to so abruptly show such a vast increase in magical ability rather than exhibit a somewhat natural progression. Lily had already become suspicious of him, and with good reason—he had, after all, experienced an inexplicable change in eye color and demeanor all of a sudden. To go about showing more changes would draw exactly the wrong kind of attention to himself.

However, the ancient family magics of two of Britain's most beloved and respected houses had chosen him to be their lord and protector. When word spread of this sudden shift in power within the Black family, for at the very least news of _the_ Orion Arcturus Black losing his lordship would spread, many would see this as a chance to make a move against or take advantage of what would be perceived as a weakened ancient and noble house. The more dangerous and enigmatic, powerful and commanding he showed himself to be, the less opposition and criticisms he would later face.

"Anything," she agreed readily, her curtain of scarlet tresses dancing unrestrained and free in her almond shaped-eyes as she eagerly nodded, a beautiful and unknowingly enticing smile on her face.

Grabbing the overhead rack to maintain his balance as the train crawled to a stop at the Hogsmeade station, he leaned cockily toward his mother, drawing on every ounce of Sirius' charisma and personality he had felt awakening in him since he had woken. "If you were looking out the window when I summoned my uniform, how did you know I didn't use a wand?"

Lily opened her mouth to respond, but when she began to give her explanation her words appeared to have failed her.

Smirking wolfishly down at her, Harry continued "I believe, _Lily flower_, that you were peeping on lil' ol' me!" As if to answer his question, the Gryffindor prefect's face turned a pretty shade of red. Whether she intended to do so or not, her eyes drifted down to his hard and flexing abs before guiltily flashing back up to his eyes.

"Who would have thought Gryffindor's newest female prefect could be such a pervert?"

Harry's barking laughter filled the small compartment as an angry and obviously embarrassed Lily Evans stormed from the cabin, taking care to tread painfully on his dragon hide boots as she went. Severus lagged behind just long enough to send a threatening sneer his way before he followed her lead, leaving the Marauders alone.

Leaning out into the corridor from inside the compartment, he called after her, "Oh, ca'mon, Lily flower! It's not like I'm going to tell anybody!" He received more than a few odd looks from passerbys for his outburst as he pulled his head back into the cabin. _'I think I enjoyed messing with her a bit too much.'_

"What was that?!" Throwing down his cards, James crossed the small distance between them, looking as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to punch him or hex him. "Why are you suddenly so interested in Evans? We agreed a long time ago you weren't going to go after her!"

"You're paranoid, James. I'm not trying to steal your imaginary girlfriend." Pausing momentarily to check himself over in the window, Harry slipped into the fray, moving decisively toward the exit. He knew without looking behind him that James would be close on his heels.

"You could have fooled me!" James scoffed, sardonically. "First you molest her, then you show off in front of her, and finally you start to flirt with her like you do every other bird within your line of sight!"

Stepping out into the cool September evening air, the hustle and bustle of the platform a pleasant background sound, Harry was overcome with nostalgia, and the comforting sense of returning home, something he felt every time he came back to Hogwarts.

All along the platform were stalls featuring the local businesses, offering up treats and last minute items for sale to the students as they made their way to the carriages that would take them up to the school for another school year.

The first Hogsmeade weekend of the school year was never scheduled that long after term began, with sixth and seventh years being allowed to visit every weekend as long as they weren't barred as punishment for some offense committed during the week. This, however, didn't stop the owners of the local shops from trying to cash in on what they called the "return rush."

Harry turned to face the man that could possibly be his, or more accurately _Harry_ _Potter's_ father someday. Thanks to his appearance in the timeline, whether or not James and Lily would ever get together was entirely uncertain. Technically, since he had appeared here before he was even born, that made this current reality an alternate one from the one he left. Whether his consciousness merging with that of his teenaged godfather's was the only difference between this world and the one he left behind, only time would tell.

As it was now, his only goal and in fact the entire purpose behind proceeding with the ritual that brought him into the past—though the entire plan and its execution was something Sirius had come up with while they had been drinking in celebration of the extermination of another one of their targets—was to stop Voldemort before he could do as much damage as he had in the second war. Little did Sirius know that that _specific_ part of his drunken, idiotic plan would work out far better than they had ever imagined. Having traveled so far back in the timeline, Harry would have ample time to stop Voldemort's reign of terror and his subsequent return before he really had a chance to build momentum.

Gazing pensively at the teen who would in another timeline grow up to be his father, Harry sighed, unsure as to how he should proceed. It seemed that Sirius' memories, feelings and personality were having a bigger impact on him than he had anticipated. When he looked at James Potter now, he saw him as more of a brother and best mate than he did a father. At the same time, though, he possessed Sirius' loyalty to James, recalling the mischief and many adventures the two had shared, but his own personal eagerness to learn about the teen and his friends was making itself known, creating a confusing mix of emotions and desires.

'_Damn head's a right mess at the moment,'_ he mused tiredly.

"If Lily flower hates anyone as much as she does you, mate, it's me." Sorting through the memories of Sirius and Lily's many encounters, Harry could clearly see the naked animosity and aversion the two shared for one another. The fact that the redhead had come to his aid after all the crap Sirius and the rest of the Marauders had pulled over the years showed just how good of a person she was.

"I doubt her seeing how _ridiculously_ good I look half naked will change anything between us," he joked as Peter and Remus caught up to them. "Besides, if she's the type to put that much stock into looks, no offense, but you and Snivellus are both screwed."

Laughing along with Remus and Peter, he stopped at the Honeydukes' stall long enough to buy them each something warm to drink on the ride up to the castle.

"Why do you keep calling her 'Lily flower?'" James asked suspiciously, taking the spiced tea he was offered. Though he appeared to still be upset that someone other than himself had held Lily's attention for more than a few seconds, Harry's constant reassurances seemed to be having the desired effect.

"Why do I do anything that I do? I did it because I wanted to," he shrugged nonchalantly. Claiming an empty carriage as their own, Harry didn't continue until they were moving. "I called Remus 'Moony' and 'Remy.' Do you think I'm going to try and get into his knickers as well?"

Before James could admit to seeing his point, Remus gave a horrified gasp. "I'm sorry, Sirius, but you're just not my type!" Covering his chest melodramatically, he cowered in the corner of the carriage as if he were trying to protect both his modesty and chastity from Harry's untoward advances.

"_Please_, Remy. You know you want me as much as I want you," he said, sounding completely serious. "Don't worry though, I know it'll be your first time—I'll be so gentle."

"Alright, alright," James laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. "I get it, you're not pursuing Evans. Point made!"

The remainder of the ride up to the castle was spent in a comfortable silence, and when they exited the carriages Harry had already loosened his tie to the point it was almost completely undone. It seems it was a quirk of Sirius' that he had inherited from their merging. Harry found it to be quite funny that Sirius had compared the school's required tie to that of a dog collar during his first year. If he had only known at the time…

Slowly striding into the Great Hall, taking his time to greet all those who were calling out to him, he examined the hall for any visible changes between his time and the present. From what he could tell as he sat down between James and Remus, besides a few of the teachers and all of the students, there had been no major changes made to the parts of the castle he had seen thus far and the castle he would come to know twenty years from now. That thought was enough to make him shake his head.

"What does Evans see in him?" Looking up to see what James was grumbling about, Harry found the teen leering unabashedly at the object of his affections as she parted ways with Severus.

"Surely she has to know the little grease-ball is panting after her, right?"

Harry shared a knowing smirk with Remus. "Perhaps she handles his feelings with the same approach she uses with yours?"

"Wha-what? Evans doesn't know I like her!" he hissed indignantly. "Wait, what are you talking about? What approach?"

"The approach where she pretends to be ignorant of the unwanted attention in the hope that the unrequited feelings, or in your case, _you_, will go away." This was too much for Remus who had to bury his head in his arms so as not to draw the attention of all those in the hall now watching the sorting with his shoulders shaking violently with suppressed laughter.

"Mr. Potter, if I see you use that hand gesture again, it'll earn you an evening with me doing lines." McGonagall's lowly given warning came as the cheering at the Ravenclaw table died away.

James smiled cheekily up at his head of house, dropping his hand and the offending finger, as sniggers traveled up and down the Gryffindor table. Her warning, as quietly as it had been given, had carried to all of the Gryffindors.

"Shut up you three!"

"Don't get huffy because Minnie caught you," Remus lightly rebuked. Pulling his head from the cradle of his arms, he sent them a tired smile that let them know the full moon was rapidly approaching. "You'd think he'd be used to it by now…"

"I think he's more huffy 'bout Lily than anything else." Peter pointedly avoided James' gaze upon seeing the annoyed grimace his words had elicited from the 'leader' of their group.

Before anymore could be said about the source of James' uncharacteristically sullen mood, the sorting had come to an end, and Dumbledore was standing before the school, holding his arms out, wide and inviting. Though the man before him was twenty years younger than the Dumbledore he had first laid eyes upon, he was no less eccentric in appearance, nor was his magical presence any less imposing.

It had only been a few months before Albus' death that Harry had begun his apprenticeship with the Flamels—just enough time for him to begin learning the intricacies of reading the ebb and flow of magic with his eyes. The first and _only _time he had ever used his mage-sight on the headmaster had resulted in Harry very nearly blinding himself. The sight of the man's magic had been comparable to looking into the sun, just as it went supernova. For weeks after his rash attempt to better understand the power the man possessed, his eyes had been ultra-sensitive, with any level of light causing him unbearable migraines that potions did little to help.

Gazing up at the man known as the "Leader of the Light," Harry was amazed that a man who possessed such vast and potent magical reserves had been unable to best Voldemort. Or perhaps, as he had often mused to himself in the years that followed, the war with Gellert Grindelwald had taken too great a toll on him, destroying what had once made him revered the world over. Harry believed his refusal to use lethal force, except in the most harrowing of situations, was an adverse effect from having to kill so many of his former paramour's followers before having to grievously wound said man.

His dissent with Dumbledore's ideology aside, Harry would have to be blind not to see the advantages that having the man in his corner would grant him. His mere presence on a battlefield was enough to change the tide of any conflict—reigniting the spirit of even the most despairing of "light" warriors, and striking crippling fear into the hearts of the vilest Death Eaters. This, coupled with the political power he held and the way his words were seen as near gospel by a majority of the British wizarding public, made him the most favorable of allies and the deadliest of adversaries. At 47 years old when Harry had left, he was only just approaching that level of power and respect.

'_Well, Riddle notwithstanding, that is.'_

Surfacing from his thoughts, Harry found himself the only student with an empty plate. It appeared that while he had lost himself in a tempest of thoughts, the sorting had ended and the feast had begun.

"How have things been going for you, Moony?" he asked, as he served himself. "Last time I saw you things were a bit strained between you and your folks."

Setting his fork down, Remus slowly chewed his last bite, taking his time before he responded. Harry got the feeling, as he tucked into his own meal, that the young werewolf wasn't sure how much he actually wanted to share.

"Things have been… as you said, 'strained.' Mother is as frightened of me as she's always been, and father… I sometimes get the feeling he wishes I would just leave them... Perhaps even wishing that I had died that ni-"

"Mate," Harry interrupted, placing his hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "I know the situation with your parents is less than desirable, but I can't see them wanting you dead." Remus nodded, but didn't look convinced.

"Listen, if you really feel that way, why not move in with me?" Now that he was Lord Black his banishment from the family and, subsequently, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was no longer in effect. The former / future location of the Order of the Phoenix housed many dark and rare to outright extinct forms of magics that had been lost to him and Sirius when the Black ancestral home had been destroyed in his fifth year. He had every intention of immersing himself deeply in all the "new" and forgotten magics that lay right at his fingertips.

"I-I thought you were living with James at the moment!" Remus looked as if he'd been smacked. "I don't know how the Potters would feel about taking another stray in."

"No, not at the Potter's—at Grimmauld Place."

"I… Weren't you kicked out by your parents?"

"Yup!" Harry laughed. "But that's no longer a problem. By Christmas I'll be the only person living there—unless, that is, you want to live with me."

"What's going on, Sirius?!" Remus hissed, keeping quiet so that even James and Peter couldn't overhear their conversation. "Your parents won't be living there anymore, but you will?! What aren't you telling me?"

"No time now—later!" Nodding his head toward the front of the hall where Dumbledore was rising to his feet.

"Now that we are all watered and fed, let me once again welcome you to another magical year here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

What Dumbledore would say next, Harry would never know, for at that moment Remus spun in his seat to fix him with a stern, reprimanding look that he had only ever before seen upon the face of his former lover, Hermione Granger. Just like it was when she gained said look, whatever it was the boy had to say was too much for him to keep to himself, even though that meant he had to speak while the Headmaster, a man Remus deeply respected, was giving his speech.

"Sirius, if you're planning on doing something… in the vein of what your family is infamous for, I beg of you to reconsider. If someone were to discover what you were planning-"

"Whoa, mate! It's not like I'm going to kill them. Though, knowing my family, after I'm done with them they'll wish they were dead. And you want to talk about parents wanting their children dead—chances are mine will have a hit out on my head before the night's end."

"Once more, I feel I must ask you what is it that you're planning?"

"I'll explain it all at another time, when we're alone. In the middle of a packed Great Hall, while Dumbledore is giving his welcoming speech, isn't the best time to discuss such things. Just know, I'm not doing anything illegal."

Remus didn't have time to voice his many doubts. Both had their attention ripped from one another as loud cries of displeasure and anger tore through the hall from all four house tables.

"That's bollox, that is!" James stood on his seat to better glare at the headmaster, who stood facing the hall with the same twinkle in his eyes that they always had, despite all the scorn and angry insults currently being thrown his way. "You can't cancel our quidditch season! Are you mad, you nutter?!"

"MR. POTTER!" came McGonagall's enraged scream, silencing most of the hall. Only the most avid of quidditch fans dared speak after seeing how livid the head of Gryffindor house had become. "Twenty-five points from Gryffindor and two weeks of detention—you will show the headmaster the respect he deserves! I have a right mind to bar you from entering your name in the competition after such a disrespectful outburst."

James' indignation at his punishment quickly died as he realized what had been said. Still standing in his seat, much to the amusement of James' admirers and Peter, he continued, despite the look on McGonagall's face. "_Competition_? What are you on about, Minnie?"

Seeing his deputy headmistress' normally pale complexion turn a dangerous shade of red, Dumbledore quickly intervened before the spirited youth could suffer the Scot's wrath. "That is correct, Mr. Potter—you may sit down now," he added with a small chuckle, causing the smirking teen to return to his seat.

"I am proud to announce that this year Hogwarts will play host to a most historic event not seen in close to two centuries. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, two of Europe's most respected institutes of magical learning, will be arriving in October to participate in the Triwizard Tournament!"

As it had been in his original timeline, the hall filled with the sounds of awe and roars of excitement at the news of the legendary tournament's resurrection. It seemed no one was immune to the energy pulsing through the crowded hall, not even Severus it seemed, who was sending his mother loaded looks from across the hall.

'_It would appear Severus plans to enter in the hopes it will earn him Lily's affections,'_ Harry mused, observing that James was sending similar looks the redhead's way. _'Though they may be as different from one another as night and day, the two certainly seem to share similar mindsets.'_

Turning back to gaze up at the headmaster, a pensive Harry watched the man as he lovingly eyed his students chatter on about the upcoming tournament.

'_What the hell is going on here?_' was echoing through his thoughts. After being entered in the tournament against his will in his sixth year, he had gone on to examine past tournaments in the hope of discovering anything that could have been useful to him. It was then that he had had learned that the last attempt to restart the tri-wiz had been over half a century beforehand. So why was it that the tournament not only seemed to be fully resurrected, but to be following him into the past? Was there some hand of fate or destiny at work here?

Harry listened intently as the headmaster spoke of the very real dangers that any who entered the tournament would face, should they be chosen as champion. Unlike in his time, there would be no age restriction on those eligible to enter. If the Goblet of Fire chose you—then you were champion and that was that.

From the overall tone of Dumbledore's speech he had the distinct feeling that this tournament wouldn't be anything like the one in his time. There would be no hand-holding on the ministry's part this time, no watering down of the tasks the champions were expected to conquer, for if the Goblet chose you, then you were the very best your school had to offer. This tournament was meant to live up to those past champions who were even now whispered of with reverence and awed tones—the perfect setting for another needless massacre to play out for the entertainment of the bloodthirsty masses.

"Oh, man!" James yelled, as they made their way out of the Great Hall, heading toward the Gryffindor tower. "I'm so going to be chosen as Hogwarts' champion!"

"Please, Potter," came the derisive voice of Severus Snape from behind them. "The only way you could be chosen as champion would be if your parents were to bribe your way in. But then again, I suppose that wouldn't be all bad. Perhaps we'd all be treated to the sight of you being buggered to death by a dragon!"

"Severus!" Lily gasped, shocked that he would say such a thing.

Harry along with the rest of the Marauders turned to see the two unlikely friends, accompanied by Narcissa and the future Alice Longbottom, trailing out of the hall behind them.

"Like you have a chance of being chosen, Snivellus?" James asked mockingly, his entire demeanor shifting into the arrogant strutting bad boy he'd been trying to catch Lily's attention with for years. "If you were to get anywhere near a dragon your hair would go up in flames. They may ban you from entering simply due to how much of a fire hazard your hair is."

Sighing, Harry turned and left, surprising the entire group. Normally, when Severus and James got into one of their signature little tussles, Sirius couldn't help but to throw in his two knuts worth.

Knowing that for some odd reason they were all following him, including Lily and her group, he asked the group a question. "How many of you know the real reason this tournament was abandoned?"

"You really are a troll for brains, aren't you, Black?" Severus sneered at him, trying to hide his discomfort at being around the enigmatic teen. He was unnerved by the changes he had noticed in Sirius. The way he carried and conducted himself now was that of a person with the confidence of someone vastly more experienced than anyone their age could possibly hope to be. Like he was an apex predator who knew to their very core that few, if any, could stand against him and survive. It was night and day different, compared to the overly arrogant and spoiled act Black had been putting on for years.

"The headmaster explained that the death toll had risen too high for it to continue on. If you had been paying attention, instead of trying to pick up your latest slag, you would know as much."

Harry didn't even blink at the teen's attempts to get a rise out of him. "Yes, that's the bollox Dumbledore chose to tell us, but it is in no way the full truth." Stopping and turning to face them, he continued his explanation. "Besides me and Narcissa, none of you have ever been to the _Sieve_, have you?" The group, minus the emotionless Narcissa, gave a collective shake of the head.

"What's that?" Peter asked, voicing the question on all their minds.

"It's a former coliseum, which was in use in the times of the founders as a place to settle disputes between clans. Now, however, the massive stone structure has been turned into the world's largest pensieve." Already knowing what many of them were going to ask, he went ahead and answered the collective's unspoken question. "A pensieve is a magical device which allows one to share and view the memories of others."

"Wicked!" James exclaimed in awe, summing up everyone's thoughts in one word. "Why haven't I heard of this place before? My family is one of the oldest magical familes in Europe after all." Everyone ignored Severus' snort of disgust, they all knew James really wasn't trying to brag at the moment.

"Surely if such a place existed we would know about it."

"Because," interjected Narcissa, surprising them all, except for Harry. "It's owned by the main bloodline of the Black family. The Potters are too much of a 'light' family to be invited to such a place."

"Why would his family's status play into the matter?" Remus questioned, sounding as if he were unsure if he wanted to know or not.

"Not all of the memories played are that of past Quidditch World Cups," Harry explained. "Any event that people want to see is shown. Quidditch matches, dueling tournaments, battles the founders and other noteworthy witches and wizard participated in, executions of infamous criminals, and yes, tasks of the Triwizard tournament are all regular attractions. The reason the Potters have never been invited is that the memories aren't edited at all—blood, gore, and anything else that took place in the original memory gets shown."

"That's…" Alice trailed off looking rather pale.

"Unpleasant," Harry supplied, nodding that he agreed. "I say that Dumbledore's words were bollox because I've seen the last tournament and know why they stopped it altogether. It wasn't because the champion body count rose too high, it was because a cockatrice that was brought in for the champions to kill, broke free of its restraints before the task could even begin—killing close to four hundred students and spectators."

Thinking of nothing else to say, a nauseous looking Peter asked "What's a cockatrice?"

"A crossbreed of a wyvern and a rooster." Peter gave a humorous laugh at the thought of such a creature.

"Don't be so quick to underestimate the magical properties and abilities of roosters and chickens," Harry told him knowingly. "Think about it, cockatrices, basilisks, and some breeds of chimaera and manticore all have some relation to the feathered creatures."

Seeing the group was still reeling from his revelation, he left them with a bit of advice before they went their separate ways. "Just think twice before you enter your name in this competition. Attempting to claim all the fame and glory this tournament has to offer may be the _last_ thing you ever do."

Silently, the three other members of the Marauders ambled up the staircase leading out of the entrance hall, following closely behind Harry. He, himself, was quiet as well. He was still attempting to sort out Sirius' memories, yet just minutes ago he had given a lecture to his one-time parents and their friends with information he hadn't been aware he possessed. He had investigated the final task of the Triwizard tournament in his own time, of course, but had only been able to find a few things on what had really transpired all those years ago. It didn't sit well with him at all that random pieces of knowledge and memories of Sirius' life up to that point, all of which could be key to the future success of his plans, were just floating around in his head going unutilized.

"I'll talk with you lot later," Harry said as they reached the top of the stairs, breaking off from the group to head in the opposite direction. James and Peter absentmindedly waved him off, but Remus stared after him as if he were debating whether or not he should try tagging along.

Glancing over his shoulder, he smirked. "I'm not killing anyone, Remy. You can go read whatever book it is that's calling your name. Your virtue is safe for one more night."

Remus disappeared around the same corner as the rest of the Gryffindors, a small chuckle shaking his hunched shoulders. Before Harry could continue on to the third floor and the One-Eyed Witch's passageway out of the school, he was stopped by the voice of his mother.

"Where are you going?" she questioned, quickly getting ahead of him.

"Does it matter?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"You're supposed to be heading back to the tower." Lily stood alone before him, her arms crossed authoritatively over her smaller than average chest. He could tell by the cute way her forehead was scrunched that she was attempting to put all of her authority into her eyes.

"If I'm not mistaken the fifth years' curfew doesn't go into effect until ten. I should be fine for at least the next hour and half." Seeing that Lily didn't plan on letting the subject go, he propped himself up against the wall. "Shouldn't you be helping lead the firsties up to Gryffindor tower instead of stalking me around the castle?"

"I'm not _stalking_ you—I just happened to see you heading off this way." she defended. "You've already destroyed public property, flashed half of the school because you couldn't control yourself, and your 'best mate' has lost Gryffindor twenty-five points—don't you think it's wise to call it a night?"

Reaching into his pocket, Harry withdrew a powder-blue cigarette that looked as if it had been rolled by hand. "First off," he started, pausing to wandlessly ignite the cigarette hanging from his lips. "Despite popular belief, I'm _not_ James Potter or his minion—so you trying to hold me accountable for his 'evils' is patently unfair to me. Second, I've abstained from any behavior since arriving here to warrant your suspicions. If anything, I've been on my best behavior. How many arguments between James and Severus have I stopped today?"

Lily was momentarily taken aback by the honesty and truth in his words. Not used to having an actual conversation with the boy, she was left unsure of how to respond.

"You're not wearing your dress slacks and smoking is prohibited upon the castle grounds."

Harry sent her that same genuine smile she had only seen once before, as he took a long drag of the bad habit he had inherited from Sirius. "Are you going to turn and watch my reflection as I change again, or are you going to force me to strip as you watch?"

His chest gave a deep rumble as he watched the innocence of the redhead turn her scarlet from her cheeks down into the collar of her robes. "As for this," he said, indicating the smoke between his lips, "it's made up of the leaves of a plant known simply as Melancholy. An apt name, if I do say so myself. For you see, when its smoke passes into your bloodstream it causes the smoker to experience an overwhelming sense of melancholy. Its effects are said to be comparable to that of a person who's lost their loved one."

Lily gave a horrified gasp as she watched him take another drag of the blue drug. "Why would you smoke that if causes you such pain?" She surprised him with the look of deep remorse she wore—if he hadn't known any better he would have believed she were the one causing him such heartache.

Shaking his head, he rid himself of thoughts of her beauty and goodness. "A majority of the Black line possesses an addiction to its taste. That majority are usually those who are forced into arranged marriages."

"I-I don't understand…" Slowly tucking a strand of her amazingly red hair behind her ear, she inched closer, stopping just outside the range of the smoke orbiting him. "If they're unhappy, why would they want to make those feelings worse?"

Harry smiled. "It's an exceedingly rare event, but every once in a while the leaves have the opposite effect on the smoker. Instead of causing them heartache, it shows them what it feels like to love… and to be truly loved."

Harry could already feel the drug's effect starting to overtake him, as he watched his future mother try and comprehend the depth of the sadness felt by those of the Black line.

"Until recently I had been expecting to receive word of my marriage to whatever fine young lady my parents had chosen for me. Now, however, I don't have to worry about such things; though I doubt if I'll be able to stop smoking."

"Why not?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I need to know what the opposite of such sadness is." His answer was so vulnerable and honest that it took everything Lily had not to go forward into the poisonous smoke and give him the hug he so desperately deserved and needed.

It had been years since he had experienced the love shared between a man and a woman, not since Luna died giving birth to what would have been their firstborn child had he allowed himself to love another as he had her. The closest thing to what he had felt for Luna was the bond shared between him and Sirius, who in their time was now married to Harry's old Astronomy professor, and that of his only child, Lily Luna Potter—his angel born of a one night stand with his former best mate's little sister. And though he rarely had the chance to see the now—or was it _then_—twelve year old, there was no bond he held that was stronger and no love that burned quite as brightly as it did for his daughter. In some ways, his love for Lily Luna was as strong as that as he held for his deceased wife.

Never being able to see his little angel or Sirius again were the only reasons he regretted drunkenly agreeing to going through with the ritual. A little bit of smoke was a small price to pay if it meant getting a few seconds of that love back.

"Look at the time, Lily flower. If I'm to do what's needed before curfew, I had better get moving." Pushing off from his place against the wall, he started down the hallway, leaving behind a pensive Gryffindor prefect who wasn't sure what had just transpired between her and the boy she thought she knew.

"I'll show you that I'm not as bad a person as you believe," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the twists and turns of the second floor corridor. _'But first I have to deal with the former lord Orion Black.'_

**So, that was it. What did you all think?**

**I'm not sure if it was noticeable or not, but Harry's personality underwent a slight shift toward more of a Sirius Black mentality after he woke up. This was done on purpose as a side effect of his gaining Sirius' memories. Harry was by no means a coward when he traveled back, but thanks to the merging with a fifteen year old Sirius (I mean think about it, a hormone driven Sirius Black!) he's gained a bit of recklessness that forty-four year old Lord Harry Potter Black, a veteran of three wars, survivor of countless battles, and apprentice of the Flamels never had. **

**Also**, **for anyone who may be worried about as much, Harry/Sirius, despite his use of the drug Melancholy, won't be angsty. I know the end of the chapter was starting to lean that way, but I wrote the scene in such a manner as a way for Lily to connect with Sirius and see him in a different light to what she's used to experiencing. **

**On the topic of getting to know one another better, they won't be getting together right away. There's no way someone you've hated for so long could wiggle their way into your heart with a few charming smiles and by opening up to you. Harry/Sirius and Lily will face many challenges before they can be together—getting past Lily's preconceived notions of him will be one such obstacle. However, this won't be a fic where you have to wait forever for them to be together, either. Waiting for over 150,000 words for a couple to get together, let alone admit their feelings to themselves, is simply ridicules.**

**As a side note, if anyone is curious about how I envision the girls, I see Karen Gillan (Doctor Who!) as Lily, and Holland Roden as Lily Luna Potter. I have links on my profile to pictures of both. As for Sirius (sorry, no picture), I've always seen him as being very close in looks and personality with Jared Leto. By no means is this how I want all of you to see them. I just thought I'd share my thoughts on the matter in case someone out there was interested. **

**If you enjoyed what you read then please leave a review. Thanks for reading! **


	2. Chapter 2 Stirring of the Cauldron

**AN: Sorry for the long wait on this chapter. A mixture of being grounded for over a month and a half, my part time job, school starting back up, football practice, and GTA 5 all contributed to the wait. The in-between time of future chapters won't be as long. At the moment (literally as I post this) I'm working on chapter three.**

**As for the incest controversy, I have a solution that will be shown later on in the story. Yes, **_**real**_** incest (for fan fiction, anyway) will take place. I had planned on making this change, and was going to let it be a surprise, but a lot of people wanted to get picky. (It's okay, I'm the same way when reading fics. I feel your need for blood-love.)**

**Thanks goes out to Joe Lawyer for beta'ing and dealing with me and my issues.**

* * *

"I distinctly recall ordering you to never disgrace this home with your presence again." Orion Black, former head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, sat behind his opulent desk in his private study, his wife standing dutifully at his side as they watched their disgrace of an eldest son traipse about the room as if it were his own. His anger at the boy's blatant disrespect was only exceeded by that which he felt hours before when he realized that the Lordship ring, that had been upon his finger for a better part of the past thirty years, had mysteriously vanished.

'_No, not vanished—passed on. I felt that. The ring has recognized another as being more deserving of the title 'Lord Black' than I.'_

"You test my undeserved generosity by showing your face here. Do you possess a valid reason for why I shouldn't kill you where you stand for returning here? Why should I not save myself and the name of Black from any further shame the taint of your continued existence will unquestionably bring?"

"Because," Harry replied, his voice light and airy as he pulled an aged, leather bound journal from its shelf. "It would be the mark of a fool to attempt to assassinate the Lord of a Most Ancient and Most Noble House. Especially the house you still, for the moment, belong to." Turning to face 'his' parents, the form of Sirius Black fixed them with a devious smirk. "Are you a fool, _dear_ father?"

Leaning to the side to avoid the blur of green that flew at his head, Harry lazily flicked his wand at Walburga Black, sending the woman whose womb Sirius—_he_—came from, crashing into one of the many bookcases which lined the walls of the study.

Watching as his wife collapsed brokenly under an avalanche of priceless tomes, Orion remained behind his large oaken desk, making no move to aid the woman who had given birth to his children.

Harry chuckled softly, the sound filling the unnaturally silent office like the anticipating breath of a beast lurking just beyond its prey's field of vision, ready to pounce and enjoy a wonderful meal. "There was never any doubt that _she_ was a fool."

"You have the gall to come here and waste my time spewing such lunacy?" What little emotion Orion did allow to surface in his crisp, cold voice, was that of undisguised disgust. "To claim the Black family magics have chosen you over so many more deserving individuals, even in jest, is the act of a _true_ fool. The day that you become the Lord Black is the day I would invite a filthy muggle to share a bed with my wife."

Placing the journal back upon its shelf, its aged and cracked leather like sandpaper against his smooth, pampered hands, he turned to face the room and the former head of the Black family. "Perhaps you should get mother a potion for her head before you pick her out a nice dress." Holding up his right hand, Harry flipped the man a crude hand gesture, showcasing the dark-red, almost black garnet encircling his middle finger. The very same ring that Orion had worn for the past thirty years.

"If I were you, I'd make it an obligation of her new _mundane_ lover that he take her out for a nice dinner before their slap and tickle." Harry was certain that the cruel smirk he wore stretched widely across his features at seeing the naturally tan bastard pale to levels that a ghost would be envious of. "You know, make mum feel like the special broad we both know her to be."

During his time as a member of the ICW's Secret Intelligence Service and three-man enforcer squad—also known, by the very few who were even _aware_ of the group's existence, as 'Hecate's Hounds' or 'Circe's Trinity'—Harry had encountered many unspeakable atrocities, both wizard-made and those caused by magic's foulest creatures. These _people_, however, fell into the small category of monsters that Harry took personal offense to, even more so after the birth of his only daughter.

_Child abusers_.

It may have been the result of his own experiences at the hands of his 'uncle' up until the age of eight—after which the man had never touched him nor anyone else ever again—which drove Harry to having such a sadist's view on how those who would harm a child should be dealt with. A view surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, depending on how you looked at it, that had been eagerly shared by his two comrades of the Trinity. The fate child abusers met at their hands fueled legends of truly epic suffering.

Sirius had often made light of his dysfunctional childhood, always joking when his family was brought up about everything he had done in defiance of his parents' wishes during his youth. But now that Harry held an intimate knowledge of just how drastic Orion and Walburga's punishments for the smallest of offences had been, he was barely restraining himself from doling out the same type of punishments to these two. The people who had harmed the closest thing to a father figure he had ever had in his life. He yearned to do the things that he and the Hounds had done to any slavers they had the pleasure of coming across.

"Let me ask you the question you asked me just moments ago. So tell me, father, why is it that I shouldn't kill you right now?" All traces of his twisted humor disappeared along with the rest of his features as his eyes began to shine with an otherworldly glow. Orion watched in horrified disbelief as all but the teen's eyes disappeared under an inky-black, undulating shadow. Twin emeralds gazed superiorly at him—through him—piercing his very soul with their intensity and utter loathing.

His magic purred upon being unleashed from the tightly coiled sphere he normally restrained and confined it to, supercharging the air with its intimidating, yet enthralling mystical humming. Slowly, the same darkness which had obscured his face began to do the same with the entirety of the room, smothering any and all sources of light. Feeling his magic bleeding throughout his body, enhancing his entire being to inhuman levels, he knew the twin smoky tendrils of magic, which bled from his eyes like poisonous fumes whenever his magic was allowed to go unchecked—a pleasant side effect of his animagus form—were making an appearance by the sound of Orion's fearful pants as he struggled to draw breath in the suddenly stifling room.

"If you choose not to speak, I'll have to assume that you want to die," Harry commented into the darkness. With vision granted to him by his magic, he watched as Orion hastily removed his wand from his robes, desperately holding onto it like a lifeline.

"Because…" Orion took a shuddering breath, attempting to calm his frayed nerves. He may have been unnerved by his son's effective display of power, but he'd be damned if he'd allow the blasted upstart know as much. "Because _I_ am the only one who can reveal all of the Black family magics to you."

"You may be hard pressed to believe it, but I can, in fact, _read_." Tone dry as he spoke, he strode slowly to his father's desk, making just enough noise as he moved to allow the man to know he was nearing. "It would only take me a small amount of time to learn our magics on my own. _Time_… which I have more than enough of."

Swallowing thickly, Orion gave a small, humorless chuckle. "There are magics only the head of our family is privy to…"

Harry watched in shocked amazement—a feeling one rarely experienced after seeing as much as he had—as across the surface of Orion's exposed skin appeared glowing gray symbols that looked as if they were powered by the man's own magic. Over the planes of his aged, yet handsome face, trailing down his neck and up his slightly muscled arms, disappearing into the openings of his expensive robes were words of magic and power, all from different and varying runic languages. It was a sight that established and universally accepted magical theory told Harry should be all but impossible.

"Without me," Orion breathed, his form now visible to the naked eye thanks to the glow coming from the runes etched across his body, "the magic which first garnered the name 'Black' the respect we possess today, will be lost to you and any future heads that succeed you."

_**Hair of the Grim**_

"Since Mr. Snape and Mr. Potter find themselves to be above listening to what I have to say about this term's project—a potion which will be difficult for even the best of you budding brewers, I assure you—they can both come up front where I can watch them and make sure they pay attention."

James and Severus glared daggers at one another as they gathered their things and made their way to the front of the classroom where the professor had indicated. Horace Slughorn looked on in disappointment as two of the more promising members of his Slug Club begrudgingly stalked to their places before him. Why couldn't the talented duo see the benefits forming a friendship, or at the very least an alliance, would present them with in the future? Such a terrible waste in talent.

"From now until I say otherwise, the two of you will be partners in all assignments in which you are required to work in pairs. This, of course, includes your end-of-term projects." Horace held his hand up, stopping their anticipated objections before they could even begin. "Anything more said on the subject will see the two of you as partners for the remainder of your time under my tutelage. Am I understood gentlemen?"

Wearing their disapproval plainly upon their faces, James and Severus gave curt nods that they understood. It would have only served to further infuriate the two to know just how in sync their silent responses were, and as a result, how similar the dark haired teens were in that brief moment.

"Ms. Evans," Slughorn began, a fondness that hadn't been present when addressing the boys shaping his tone now, "if you'd like, you may join an existing pair for today's assignment, since your original partner is now sharing a cauldron with Mr. Potter. Or, if you would prefer the challenge, you may attempt to brew today's potion on your own. I'll leave the choice in your very capable hands."

Lily spared the now sullen Severus a look of pity as she was about to answer the man, but was interrupted before she could so much as utter a word in response.

"While I'm sure no one here doubts the lovely Lily's brewing ability, I, on the other hand, could use all the help I can get." The class turned to find Sirius Black lazily propped up in the doorway of the dungeon, looking to all the world as if he were only a few minutes late to class, whereas, in reality, he'd been missing from Hogwarts for the past month.

"Sirius!" The Marauders exclaimed in unison, the joy at seeing the return of their fourth member dancing merrily in their eyes. Harry favored them all, Peter included, with a small smile.

"Mr. Black," Slughorn started in surprise, obviously having not expected to see the young man within the confines of his classroom. "I was unaware of your return."

Navigating his way through the seated Gryffindors and Slytherins, Harry unceremoniously dropped his bag atop the table Lily alone was occupying, sliding into the seat next to the redhead.

"Mind being my partner?" Eyes loaded with a look that was equally curious as it was guarded, Lily nodded her consent.

"As long as you can control yourself and contribute, I'm fine with working with you." Sirius nodded, a content smile playing on his lips.

"Mr. Black," Slughorn called, diverting the class' attention to himself. "I take it from your housemates' reactions that this is the first time they've laid eyes upon you in quite some time. This leaves me to wonder if your Head of House, or the Headmaster, for that matter, knows of your return?"

"McGonagall and the Headmaster were there to greet me when I arrived this morning," he revealed, pulling his potions textbook from his bag. "My subsequent meeting with them was why I was late arriving to your class, sir."

Slughorn nodded. "Very well. Ms. Evans, if you would, I'd like for you to go over the Angel's Trumpet Draught with Mr. Black. As he was absent during our last lesson, he needs to be made aware of the more commonly made mistakes which occur when brewing this particular concoction."

"As for the rest of you," Slughorn said, turning his focus upon the room at large, "you may go gather any ingredients you may be lacking from the supply closet. I will be walking amongst you, giving help to those who may require it." Ending his instructions, the whale of a man began maneuvering amongst the closely arranged desks and the herd of bodies now making their way dutifully to the supply closet.

"Alright, Black. I need you to get us Moonseed Berries, Sea Lavender, Silver Lime leaves, and Hornbeam shavings." Lily ordered without looking away from the flame at the base of their shared cauldron, carefully adjusting it to the exact temperature the draught called for. "When you return we can begin, and I'll inform you of the common mistakes the Professor spoke of."

Nodding, not that she even noticed, so focused was she on her task, Harry started for the supply closet, being sure to take a route that would take him directly by his young father.

"Sirius," greeted the grinning Potter as his long haired friend approached. "Where have you been? We've been right worried about your ugly ass!"

"Dealing with pressing family matters," he answered vaguely, nodding to Remus as he came to a stop next to him.

"It's good to have you back, Sirius." Smiling tiredly up at him, Remus readjusted his hold on the ingredients he had acquired prior to joining them. "Maybe now that you've returned, James will be able to calm down some."

Harry raised an amused eyebrow at the bespectacled teen. "What? Did you forget how to cast the contraceptive charm, _again_?" he asked, only slightly kidding. Now there had been a memory he had gotten a good laugh from.

"Ass," James grumbled good-naturedly, his features only staying in a pout for a second before a cheeky smirk quickly overtook his face.

"Even with McGonagall's continued reassurance that you were fine, Peter and I had to stop James on more than one occasion from coming to hunt you down." Remus shook his head in amusement at their now sheepish looking friend. "Not that he would have been successful in the first place. James is as bad as they come where tracking spells are concerned. Not that any of the rest of us are much better, mind you."

"I can't help it if my considerable talents lie in different branches of magic," James huffed indignantly. "Tracking magic is difficult for even the best witch or wizard. Besides, I had planned on going to my dad for help. It'd be no problem for him to locate you."

"Normally that would be true I'm sure," Harry agreed, knowing for certain Charlus was skilled enough to know such complex magics. "But with me being behind the Black family wards, he would have been unable to locate even the smallest traces of my presence. Not to mention, you would have needlessly gotten into trouble—not that your concern is unappreciated though."

"Yes, and we all know you need little help getting into trouble, Potter." Severus appeared on the opposite side of the table of Harry and Remus, his face twisted into a sneer that made him look as if he were smelling something particularly foul. "I see you failed to do as I asked and prepare the cauldron's flame. I'm sure I can credit your inaction to these two."

"Sod off, Snivellus!" James spat nastily, prodding the aforementioned flame angrily.

"Not having another disagreement, are we boys?" Professor Slughorn came to a stop at the head of the two person table, his large belly coming dangerously close to bumping the wooden structure. "It would be unfortunate if I were forced to permanently revoke your right to choose your own potions partner. A punishment, I'm sure, no one would find comfort in."

"Well then, I'm off," chuckled Remus, hastily making his way back to his and Peter's work area so as not to draw the professor's ire.

"And you, Mr. Black," the potions professor said, turning his bristly, walrus-like mustache in his direction. "Should you not be gathering what you need and getting back to Miss Evans?"

"Probably," Harry nodded. Surveying the room and noting that he was the only one who hadn't returned to his seat yet, he saw that it was the perfect time to get the glutton of a man alone.

"Professor, would you mind giving me a hand? There are a few questions about the draught I'd like to ask you before we begin."

Looking only slightly taken aback by the boy's sudden studious behavior, Horace nodded. Sending the Slytherin and Gryffindor partners a final stern look of warning, he followed the teen who had been publicly exiled from the Black family out of the room.

Upon first entering the storeroom, neither Harry nor Slughorn spoke. To Harry, it seemed that the professor was waiting for him to initiate the conversation—a startling reversal compared to how the man had treated their encounters before Sirius' banishment from the Black family had been publicized. It was almost enough for Harry to decide against making his as of yet unoffered proposal to the greedy Slytherin—_almost_!

"Tell me, Professor, a man such as yourself must be well connected to a number of powerful and influential individuals, no?"

Without looking away from the Silver Lime leaves he was collecting, Harry knew his words had brought a self-satisfied smile to the man's thin lips. He could just see the way the man would have puffed his chest out proudly, causing further strain for the poor buttons of his too small waistcoat.

"Correct you are, my boy," he chuckled giddily. What portion of his cheeks not obscured by his bushy facial hair had taken on a boyish, rosy hue. "I can truthfully boast to having had a hand in many a fantastic witch's and wizard's prosperous futures. A good number of which, I might add, I still have the ear of to this day."

His back still facing the man as he searched for the required ingredients, he nodded, giving the impression he was riveted by this information. "Having all those contacts, it must make it easier for you to acquire rare and obscure potions ingredients for your research."

"Indeed, it does. As I'm sure you know, being a _former_ member of the House of Black, the ministry is very strict with its rules and regulations. All of which are needed, mind you, but are at times rather restricting and bothersome for those of us who are cut short for time and are in great need of objects and goods of a 'potentially' dangerous nature. My connections allow me to bypass such laws that are unnecessary for one such as I. After all, I am but a simple Potions master. What misdeeds could I possible get into?" he asked, his rotund form vibrating with laughter.

Hidden from the professor, Harry allowed an unrestricted smirk to pull on his lips. The Inhibition Lowering and Trust Increasing Wards he had cast upon the threshold of the room, plus the minor privacy wards he had erected upon their arrival, were taking a rapid effect; he very much doubted a man like Horace Slughorn, a true Slytherin to the core, would be so forthcoming with such reputation damaging information otherwise.

"And all because you invited them to a couple of parties during their time here," Harry mused, pulling the last of what he required from the shelves as he turned to face the balding Head of Slytherin. "Must be nice."

Slughorn laughed pompously, patting him condescendingly on the shoulder. "Had you accepted my invitation in your first year, you too could have been privy to such useful connections. But alas, you refused my offer. If I recall correctly, your exact words were 'you'd be damned if you'd be cooped up alone with an old man with a strange fascination for children.'"

"That I did," Harry chuckled, recalling the memory of Sirius leaving the portly professor speechless and more than a little offended. It was no surprise that after years of backhanded comments from Sirius, that now that he was ostracized from his financially and politically powerful family that Slughorn had thrown such a fact, however subtly, in his face.

"My childish disrespect aside, I didn't call you here to reminisce or talk about any potion," Harry announced, earning a surprised look. "I'm in need of a go-between, an intermediary. Someone who has connections with individuals who can procure items of a… _questionable_ nature."

Harry watched in amusement as the man before him shifted his weight nervously from one foot to another, his hand drawing dangerously close to the wand sticking out of his undercoat. _'Even with my wards in place, I've managed to make him uncomfortable.'_

"Mr. Black, you should be careful about what you say. You never know how your words may be perceived by those who hear them."

"Don't play the fool, Professor, such an act can only harm one's reputation. You and I both know you perceived my words exactly as I intended them." Lips pursed into a thin line and giving an almost violent shake of his head, Slughorn hastily made his way toward the exit.

"I'm clueless as to what it is you're playing at—some form of prank you and your rambunctious friends are attempting, no doubt. I, however, refuse to stand around and entertain such nonsense!"

'…_Distress leads to hostility.'_

"What a brave wizard you are, _Horace_." The shift in tone was subtle and came naturally, flowing from light and airy to something more akin to dark-honey, but was more than enough to halt the man's hasty retreat. "You'd be hard pressed to even find a member of Gryffindor house who would be so _audacious_ as to say no to the new Lord of the Black family in such a disrespectful manner, let alone an individual from the house of cunning and ambition who would make such a folly."

"False claims of Lordship and impersonation of a Lord of an Ancient and Noble House are crimes punishable by no less than ten years in Azkaban," Slughorn stated evenly, turning to fix him with a dour look. "If for no one else but yourself, choose your next words very carefully."

"As Lord Black, I could simply hire the best private tutors in the world, and could, realistically, have my schooling completed by year's end," Harry continued as if he hadn't heard the Professor's thinly veiled threat. "This line of action, however, would be counterproductive to my long-term plans. My title as Lord Black is, as of yet, a secret known only by you and two others. I intend for it to stay that way; and this is where you and yourcontacts come into play."

"Just as easy as it would be for me to procure private instructors for myself, it would cause me no great effort to establish my own network of contacts and allies. But in doing so, I would be taking unnecessary risks, putting my identity in jeopardy of being discovered by disreputable characters before it is time. Not to mention sneaking from school grounds each and every time I'm in need of something that is beyond my reach would quickly become bothersome."

"_You_, on the other hand, can move about with an ease that is beyond me during the semester. If I were to continually disappear time and again, my 'rambunctiousfriends,' as you so aptly called them,would take notice and make things overly complicated." As he spoke he could see the same light of recognition enter the man's mud colored eyes as Orion's had, moments before he had begun losing himself to his instinctual fear.

Slughorn had begun to believe his claim of lordship.

"Failure to report a crime is punishable by up to half the sentenced time of the original lawbreaker." Horace tried to be inconspicuous in his actions, but was unable to fool the eyes of a man whose life had always depended on him being able to track and predict the movements of his enemies.

"If you're looking for proof of my claims, you'll need to agree to my terms and swear an oath of secrecy before I'm willing to show you what it is you seek."

"And what exactly are your terms, _Mr. _Black?" he asked, realizing the Lordship ring of House Black would be currently hidden away from sight.

"Use your contacts to get me what I require—_anything_ I request, and I'll give you a percentage of each purchase I make." Slughorn, as an individual, was as greedy as he was proficient at spotting talented witches and wizards. The lure of having the new Lord Black in his debt and the possibility of earning large sums of money, Harry knew, was too great a temptation for the head of Slytherin house to pass up.

"I'll have no part in the harm of others." Slughorn declared weakly, the possibility of large sums of gold coming his way making him much more agreeable.

"And you won't have to. All you need to do is get me what I require in a timely and discreet fashion. If you can do as much, you can expect the sums in your vaults to grow substantially." Pulling a piece of parchment from his robes, Harry handed it to the man, willing the ring to end the magic hiding the Black family ring from detection, but leaving the one cloaking the Potter ring from view firmly in place. "I believe it's time you made those oaths, Professor."

"These items…" Slughorn murmured, the corners of his lips turning downward into a frown as he scanned the list he was handed. "These are all elements which can be used in a ritual."

"Have some history with rituals, _do we_, Horace?" Said man blushed at his inquiry, but said nothing in confirmation. "I'll require everything on that list before the first night of the waning gibbous, and your oaths now."

Slughorn nearly dropped the parchment in shock. "The waning gibbous!? But the full moon is in five days' time!" he spat incredulously.

"Which leaves you with six full days to do everything that is needed. If it's too much for you and your connections, tell me now. Though it will undoubtedly be an inconvenience, I can get what I need on my own. The question you have to ask yourself is how badly do you want the gold I'm offering you?"

Slughorn's response was to hold his wand up and give a series of magically binding vows that would ensure he would not betray the new Lord Black's secrets.

"Good on you, Professor." Harry smiled reassuringly at the visibly shaken Potions Master, clapping him softly on the shoulder. "And don't worry about me harming innocents, the only ones who have anything to fear from me are those who deserve as much. Under my rule the Black family will stand for a different set of principles than what we are known for now, but will be no less feared and respected."

Exiting the cramped storage area with his and his partner's needed supplies in hand, he started for his and Lily's work area, taking the same out of the way route as he had originally. Passing Severus and James, Harry became confused when he found both boys giving the hard at work Lily baffled looks. Not sure what the cause behind their odd behavior was, he remained silent as he passed the duo, catching their eyes just long enough to give them a bemused look.

"Sorry for taking so long, the professor and I were talking and we lost track of time." Setting what he had gathered to the side, he pulled the Moonseed in front of him and began crushing the cherry looking berries, draining them of the needed juices the draught called for. As he worked, a silence hanging between them that hadn't been broken since his arrival, Harry couldn't help but feel as if the redhead next to him was purposely avoiding looking in his direction.

"The Silver Lime, please."

Pausing in his motions, he placed the mint looking leaves into her hand. "Did I somehow manage to piss you off?" he asked, noting that she still refused to look his way.

"No," she answered, her response coming far too quickly to be convincing. Crumbling the leaves into the cauldron, she sent him a strained smile that failed to reach her expressive eyes.

'_What was that fake smile about?'_ he wondered as he went back to extracting juice from the berries.

"Why were you absent from school for so long?" she asked abruptly, surprising him by breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

"I was needed at home," he answered, deciding to stick to vague, yet truthful answers for the time being. There was no sense in telling long winded lies, which could possibly come back to bite him in the ass, when short, honest answers, which didn't reveal any real information, would be more than adequate.

"Are your parents alright?" she inquired, a touch of unidentifiable emotion entering her voice as she paused in her work to give him a concerned look.

"Pissed off as they always are when they see me, but otherwise they're fine." Lily frowned at his words.

"Then why were you needed at home?" she pressed, trying and failing to not sound overly curious.

Harry spared her a small, curious glance before going back to his work. From what he could gather from the memories that now belonged to him, Lily was being uncharacteristically prying where he was concerned. Perhaps Severus and James had also noticed her out of character behavior and their previous blatant staring had stemmed from as much.

Trying to lighten the mood and dissipate the cornered feeling he was getting from her, he tried lightening the mood. "They called me home for our annual sacrifice."

Lily stopped what she was doing to turn her wide, startled eyes upon him. "_Sacrifice_?"

"Yeah," he nodded, answering her with false seriousness. "Each month we must dance naked beneath the full moon, bathing in the blood of a virgin goat in order to appease the Night Mother." By the time he finished speaking a playful smirk had spread across his lips. His mischievous joy, however, was to be short lived.

Tasting a bit of the bitter juice coating his fingers, unaware of how the red staining his hand closely resembled blood, he glanced over at his partner to see her naturally pale skin had become startlingly more so, surpassing the point of simply looking sickly and progressing to what one would expect of a character out of a Bram Stroker novel. He blanched at the look of horrified disbelief marring her natural beauty, never once considering how sinister he appeared as he savored the scarlet fluid gracing his hands and now lips.

"It was a _joke_, Lily." he quickly reassured her, giving a nervous look around the room to assure they weren't drawing any unwanted attention to themselves. "I promise that all forms of virgin livestock are safe around me."

Lily scowled, fighting against the embarrassed flush which threatened to overtake the entirety of her visage. "That's a first then, isn't it?" she snapped, making a point to turn her back to him as she returned to their assignment.

"What's a first?" Harry asked, more than a little confused by her odd behavior.

"A virgin who's safe around _the_ Sirius Black." From the desk in front of them, Alice McKenna, the girl who would later go on to marry Frank Longbottom, and her lab partner, broke into a fit a girlish giggles, both having obviously overheard Lily's sharp retort.

"What the hell?!" Harry hissed, now completely baffled by his mother's seemingly random bout of hostility. Stepping in close to her, forcing himself not to think about the pleasant warmth being in such close proximity to her resulted in, he spoke softly but urgently, attempting not to feed the eavesdroppers at the table before them with any juicy bits of gossip they were looking for. "Be careful about what you say; you'll make people think I'm a-"

"Man-slag?" she supplied unhelpfully, not bothering to turn from the bubbling contents of their cauldron to insult him.

"No, not a bloody man-slag—a sheep rapist!" In his annoyance, Harry spoke louder than he had meant to and was rewarded with the entire class turning to look at him like he had gone mad. It was abundantly clear that they all had overheard his unfortunate choice of words.

"Mr. Black," Slughorn began over the barely contained snickers and giggles of his students, looking unsure as how to proceed. Something told the Head of Slytherin house that punishing his newest meal ticket would be a very bad way to start off their new partnership. "Is there something that the class or I should be made aware of?"

"No, sir." Harry blushed, feeling genuine embarrassment for the first time in close to a decade.

"Are you in need of help then?"

"No, professor, I'm fine."

"Then if you would be so kind, please refrain from causing anymore disturbances during my class."

"Sorry, Professor." he apologized, catching sight of Lily's self-satisfied smirk as he did.

Deciding that it would be best not to say anything else that might set the unusually testy redhead off, Harry spent the remainder of the lesson in silence. As they worked in silence, he pondered what it was that was causing his mother to act as strangely and hostile toward him as she was.

_**Hair of the Grim**_

"Anything I can get for you, mate?"

Harry, along with James and Peter, dejectedly watched as the fourth member of their group desperately binged himself on anything within reaching distance, whilst trying to preserve some semblance of his normal decorum and dignity.

Remus pulled himself from his overflowing plate, loaded with pink and juicy, rare cooked meats the Hogwarts' house-elves continued to replenish every time the youth made progress with what he had. Furiously wiping at his face, he attempted to fight off the unavoidable blush burning his cheeks.

"Thank you, but no," he whispered, as if someone nearby would overhear him and know what he was by the animalistic way he was gorging himself. It was the same paranoid fear that always got the better of him this time of month, even though no one could hear or see him through the wards they had erected around their small group—that they always put into place on nights like these. Nights when Remus would disappear into the evening's fading light with Madam Pomfrey or at times Professor McGonagall.

Nights of the full moon.

Avoiding meeting their eyes, as if doing so would make them judge him for the monster he knew himself to be despite their many reassurances to the contrary, Remus pulled a large bowl of mashed potatoes toward him. "The more hardy foods I consume now, the easier the…_change_ will be." he explained for what could very well be the thousandth time.

Harry shook his head, watching as his friend somehow found space on his crowded plate for more than half the bowl of thick, cloud-looking vegetables. "We know. Just as you know we'd be willing to eat with our bare hands if it would make you more comfortable. Though we'd have to pause long enough to take my picture. A Christmas card featuring me with food up to my elbows and gravy on my face may possibly be the best gift I could ever give my mother and all her pureblood buddies."

Laughing as hard as the rest of his friends, James reached across the table, grabbing a chicken-leg from Remus' plate. "I don't know about the rest of the family, but mum and dad would frame it and put it on the wall."

Harry, Remus and Peter watched on in silent amusement as James took a larger than what would have been deemed 'polite' bite of the stolen poultry, only to pale once he realized just how under-cooked the meat was. It was a mistake they all had made on occasion, one which never failed to earn, at the very least, a small round of chuckles.

"It's getting late," Remus sighed, sending a look of disgust at the still replenishing plate, pushing it as far away from him as possible to indicate that he was done. "I suspect McGonagall will be waiting for me at the portrait of the Fat Lady."

Leading the group into the Entrance Hall, they were just beginning to climb the Grand Staircase when Harry suddenly felt as if he were being watched. Slowing only slightly, he pretended to laugh at the joke James was telling in an attempt to cheer Remus up. Using his ruse as an opportunity to peer around the hall for whomever it was that was spying on him, it didn't take him long to locate the group's stalker, and even less time to come to the realization that the individual wasn't following him.

Smiling wolfishly, Harry threw his arm around Remus' shoulder. "Come on, man, cheer up! You never know when some beauty is going to be looking your way."

Remus smiled weakly up at him. "I'll be sure and remember that."

_**Hair of the Grim**_

Crouching down low, the cold permeating the Shrieking Shack stinging painfully at his bare back and the rest of his exposed skin, Remus neatly folded the last of his clothing, placing them just inside the hidden entrance leading to the exit at the base of the Whomping Willow. Here, stored where his personal Mr. Hyde would be unable to reach thanks to its large mass, his belongings would remain safe through the night.

It had been an hour since he had bid his three friends goodbye at the entrance of Gryffindor tower, and it would be only a little longer till the change would begin. Already his body temperature had begun to rise to levels that would have made Madam Pomfrey's heart stop had it been anyone else with such symptoms, and his senses were functioning at levels that no _human_ should be able to naturally attain.

Unabashedly rising to his feet, safe in the knowledge that no one would stumble upon him in his nude state, he made his way over to the lone piece of furniture adorning this area of the abandoned house; a simple wooden chair where he would sit once a month as he waited for his mind to be eroded away by indescribable rage and the instincts of a beast. Wrapping himself in the thick, woolen blanket he had prepared beforehand, he sat down to await his inescapable fate and the insanity inducing pain which never failed to accompany it.

As time went on—moving at speeds that were both too fast for his liking, and yet so slow that it was a torture in and of itself—the all too familiar sensation of liquid-fire spreading through his veins started to overtake him, bringing with it the overabundance of adrenaline which always threatened to rip his heart from his chest. Pulling the blanket tighter around him despite the sheen of sweat now coating his body, Remus slid from his seat, landing harshly on his exposed knees.

Had someone happened upon the sight of him as he fell forward to press his forehead painfully into the dusty floor, most would mistake his actions as those of someone desperately praying to the divine, begging for forgiveness for an unspeakable crime that was eating away at their very soul. But in reality—the truth being far more horrifying than the confessions of a guilty soul—he was desperately trying to calm the frantic pounding of his racing heart, attempting to clear his head of the stench of his sweat clinging to his body and the dust and grime that filled the long since abandoned house—his own private hell. There would be no cries or pleas for mercy to a god which he knew never existed, for what type of deity would curse him to such a twisted existence from such a young age?

Eyes clenched tightly shut, grinding his teeth viciously until his mouth pooled with blood, Remus vainly attempted to distract himself from the pain that was his muscles starting to rip and reform in symphony with the bones savagely working themselves from their joints, searing as they re-grew into forms more suitable for a large lupine beast. The sounds of his rapidly breaking and reforming bones filled the small room, mixing with his harsh labored breathing and his strangled cries of pain.

Aware of what was to come next, Remus tried his best to ignore his automatic response to the pain coursing through his entire being and loosened his flexed jaw. Having suffered through the change once a month for as long as he could remember, he knew how much more awful the reshaping and elongating of his facial features would be if he were to allow them to remain clenched and rigid.

Whimpering as his lips ripped to accommodate the length of his muzzle and the rows of rapidly forming razor sharp fangs, he experienced something that had never before accompanied his transformation.

A sense of peace.

Blowing gently across the planes of his misshapen features was a warm, calming breeze which shouldn't have been present in the rickety, decaying structure, especially on a night as cold as the one at present. Giving a particularly anguished cry as his jaw broke only to heal at a rate which was beyond even the most prodigious healer's capabilities, he pealed one eye open—exposing brown irises, which were quickly being overtaken by a mesmerizing and otherworldly yellow—and was greeted by a sight that very nearly succeeded in stilling the panicked racing of his heart.

Dancing languidly though the air, hovering only inches in front of his grime covered face, was what appeared to be a ball of Bluebell flames. The formless mass of icy, transparent blue moved in a way that was akin to smoke, or as Remus thought as the entity studied him, like a drop of ink in water. Though there were no eyes or any other recognizable features to the creature, the partially transformed werewolf instinctively knew it to be more than just brilliantly shaded fumes or magical flames.

As if to prove his deduction, the creature's dance began to pick up in pace, now going on to encircle the room and subsequently the kneeling teenager.

Remus, in his moment of clarity and fascination, failed to realize that he was no longer losing himself to his fears or the bloodlust which was synonymous with his transformation. Nor was the pain, which haunted even his happiest dreams, able to pierce the tranquil humming of the spirit-like creature. All he was capable of experiencing in that moment was a child-like wonderment as he longingly trailed the creature's movements with his wide luminous eyes.

And nor would he realize as much, for the bodiless entity then began to emit a high pitched sound reminiscent of a strong, winter wind filtering through the branches and leaves of a deserted forest. The melodious tune lulled the teen's eyes shut, a content sigh escaping his lips even as they continued their morphing, blackening and thinning, into something more animalistic in appearance.

Drifting peacefully into Morpheus' sweet embrace, the cursed boy never saw the creature shift from its original haunting blue to an all too familiar yet just as eye drawing shade of bright emerald.

_**Hair of the Grim**_

"I'm going to kill every blasted bird within a hundred miles if someone doesn't shut that bloody tapping up!" Kicking the cover restricting his movements to the floor, exposing his almost completely bare form, Harry pulled his pillow over his head, attempting to reclaim the rapidly vanishing dregs of sleep before they became impossible to return to.

"I'll get it," moaned an equally tired voice from the opposite side of the dorm. Sleep deprived and delirious, Harry's addled mind sluggishly connected the squeaky tone to the shortest of his dorm mates.

"Mhhmm, Evans…"

"Shut it, you horny bastard!"

"Really, James," Peter groused, throwing a blurry eyed look of disbelief at the dreaming Potter. "She should really see to getting a magically binding restraining order against you, mate. You're freaking obsessed!"

"I'm going to add male Gryffindors to my hit-list if I don't get some quiet!" Harry groused, his voice muffled by his pillow.

Rolling his eyes at the threat, Peter unlatched the aged pane glass window, throwing it open with little regard for the animal that had woken them. Before he could try to untie the letter on what he instantly recognized as one of the Potter owls, the large, tawny avian had crossed the length of the dorm with a few minor flaps of its impressive wings.

Landing on James' sternum, the owl peered inquisitively down at his slumbering master with dark, intelligent eyes. It didn't take the creature long to grow annoyed by its young master's failure to acknowledge its accomplishment in completing its duty so superbly. With small awkward hops forward, attempting to maintain its footing with the wide envelope fastened to its leg, it gave a small bark of annoyance in an attempt to rouse the slumbering teen. Seeing no immediate change in James' peaceful features, the impatient creature gave what a curiously watching Peter could only describe as a sigh of contempt, before it reached forward with its sharp beak and viciously tore into the boy's slightly parted lips, only just missing taking a chunk out of his tongue in the process.

"THA' FUCK!"

Shoulders shaking in not so silent laughter, Peter watched in great amusement as his glasses wearing friend vigorously thrashed about, screaming in agony. The owl, which had been launched from James' chest after assaulting him, landed gracefully upon the edge of his four poster bed, sending the wildly flailing teen a reproachful glare.

"Morgana's sweet ass," Harry huffed, rolling out of bed. "Daft ass wanker wailing like a bloody banshee." Boxers riding dangerously low on the finely muscled 'v' of his hips, he ambled his way toward their private showers, only slowing in his frustrated trek to throw his pillow as hard as he could at James' grimacing face.

"Where are you going?" Peter questioned, wiping the laughter induced tears from his eyes.

"There's only two reasons to be up this early in the morning: getting laid or getting off." Disappearing into the showers, his slightly muffled voice drifted back to the now awake duo. "Since I'm not allowed to sleep in on a day where we have a free period first thing, I'll be taking a hand in achieving the latter."

Snorting, Peter turned back to the only other boy in the room at that point in time, only to find the messy haired teen to be having a glaring contest with his owl. It took the future rat animagus only a second to spot the thin trail of blood running down the Potter's chin.

"…Blasted bird," James sneered, gingerly running his tongue over his injured lip. "I hope you end up as Hippogriff shite." Grabbing his wand, he flicked it at the offending owl, untying and summoning the letter with the single motion. He only just restrained himself from hexing the beast as it took off for the open window, leaving behind a warm 'present' on his sheets.

"If only my mum wouldn't kill me for her owl showing up without any tail-feathers…or a head."

Chuckling softly, Peter padded his way over to his bed as James carelessly opened the thick envelope, ripping the wax seal bearing the Potter coat of arms from the back with the reckless abandon only a partially awake teen could accomplish. Grabbing a towel from his wardrobe, the teen left his friend to read his letter.

Steadily, as his gaze traveled over the expensive ink that set atop the equally expensive parchment, James' eyes grew more anxious and his posture more rigid. It wasn't until a rather tired looking Sirius exited the showers that James looked away from his father's message.

"Siri, take a look at this." James held the parchment out for him to take as he passed by his bed. "Tell me what you think."

Falling bonelessly onto his bed, Harry scanned the letter and was unsurprised to find what he did. Charlus had written to his only son to explain that a somewhat troubling situation had developed within the Potter family. He warned that there may be major, or even minor for that matter, changes coming their way. The former Head of the Potters wouldn't go into detail, for as he said in the letter the chance of it being intercepted was too great to risk it. He did, however, tell James not to worry about any of it, and to focus on his schooling and enjoying his time with his friends—that he had only written him to prepare him should any 'drastic' changes take place between then and Christmas.

Harry fought the smile that threatened to tug at his lips. Charlus and Dorea, it seemed, trusted him, or to be more specially, the mysterious new Potter Head, enough to follow his instructions. The letter had been as vague, yet informative, as he had requested it to be.

"Sounds to me like you should listen to your old man, for once." Sending the letter floating back to his friend with a dismissive wave of his hand, Harry made his way over to his wardrobe.

"You don't think I should write back and ask for more details about what's happening? Or maybe even go see him, do you?"

Harry shook his head, sending his wet and tangled locks to hang in his face. "From what I could discern from what he wrote, there's no chance of him writing anything more on the subject than what he's already sent you. And if you were to go running home now, you could inadvertently cause him and your mum more stress than they are already under."

"Yeah, but…" James trailed off, looking unsure as to what to say or do.

"If you're really that worried about it, why not write back and ask him to meet with you? Our first Hogsmeade weekend is in two weeks, get Uncle Charlus and Aunt Dorea to meet you then." he suggested. "Or better yet, ask if it would be okay for you to floo home at that time. I doubt they would refuse that."

"You're right," James agreed pensively. Giving his head a small shake to rid himself of such turbulent thoughts, he looked to his best friend, intent on telling him to give him a minute to get ready, but stopped when he saw Sirius pulling on a pair of warn from age and devoted reuse sleeping pants.

"Aren't you going to get dressed for class before we go down to breakfast?"

"I'm not going to breakfast," Harry announced, grabbing the sheets he had kicked to the floor earlier as he crawled into his bed. "I'm not even going to class."

"You're skiving the entire day?" James asked, adjusting his glasses more out of habit than necessity. Even from what little he could see of his best mate's features, most of which were obscured by the sheets he had pulled haphazardly over himself, it was clear to see that Sirius was exhausted. "You won't miss more than two periods before Minnie's up here lecturing you on how 'proper and respectable' Gryffindors should conduct themselves."

"Probably." Groaning childishly at the sun streaming through the dorm's only window, Harry pulled the thin sheets draped across him over his head, too tired to cast a shading charm on the window. "I'm knackered. I need a 'me-day.'"

James rolled out of his bed, Sirius' pillow in hand as he made his way over to his friend's unmoving form. "Here you are then," he said with a smile in his voice, tossing the pillow onto his chest. "I'll try and throw Minnie off your trail when she comes searching for answers as to why you weren't in class." Taking his wand, he pointed the eleven inches of Mahogany at the window, silently transfiguring the clarity of the glass to a much darker, tinted shade.

Giving a tired yawn that made his eyes water, Harry snaked his hand out from under his covers, quickly pulling his pillow into his personal sanctuary. "Thanks, mate."

James waved his hand dismissively, aware as he did so that the gesture would go unnoticed by its intended recipient. "No need to mention it. We're mates. Lying for one another is in the job description."

Minutes passed and Harry was finally able to attain the much needed sleep he had so desperately been craving. Following his roommates' example, James began to get ready for the day ahead of him. By the time he exited the showers, washed and feeling moderately more awake, Peter was lounged across his bed, his uniform wrinkling as a result. Surprisingly, however, was Remus' presence. Sitting atop his bed, fully clothed and surrounded by what could have passed for a makeshift wall, but what was in reality a large number of books that the young werewolf had collected from the library before arriving.

"Remus! You're up and about!" Normally, the mornings after his transformation, Remus would be left in great amounts of pain, his body unable to move without making said pain worse. This morning, contradictory to all past experience, he was up, appearing to have been so for some time, rapidly flipping through and scanning each of the books that surrounded him.

"Bit early to begin obsessing over your homework, don't you think?"

"It's not homework," Remus answered vaguely, not bothering with looking up from his book.

James came to a stop at the foot of his bed, picking up a few of the books strewn about around him.

"'Fantastical Beasts of the Forbidden Forest', 'Warlock Hunts: Scotland's Magical Wild Life', 'Extinct, Fabled and Rare Beings of the Scotland Isles'." As he listed off the different titles of the tomes he had picked up, his eyebrows rose progressively higher, leaving him with a dubious, contemplating look. "Got an itch you're needing scratched?"

Remus paused in his reading, looking up from the tome he was quickly realizing was utter rubbish. "I need to find a friend."

_**Hair of the **_**Grim **

The muted, barely audible patter of her flats uncertainly traversing the thick, twisted roots littering the Forbidden Forest floor filled Lily's hearing like claps of Earth shuddering thunder. Her damp and tangled auburn locks hung unrestrained in her heart-shaped face, clinging greedily to her petal-pink lips and obscuring her vision. For what felt like the thousandth time since she had left the castle and entered the misting evening air, she anxiously brushed her envy inducing locks from her eyes, attempting to remain hidden from the one she was pursuing.

It had been six days since Sirius Black had returned to Hogwarts and asked to be her potions partner. Six days since she had stumbled upon Professor Slughorn's and the new _Lord_ _Black's_ conversation, by way of piercing the minor privacy wards she had encountered, in which the latter had all but coerced the former into a shady, and if what the professor had said was true, illegal agreement to sneak questionable items into the school. Furthermore, from what she could discern from their words, Sirius was planning on performing some form of ritualistic magic. Lily would admit to knowing next to nothing on that rather obscure branch of magic, but what she did know was that it was outlawed by the British Ministry of Magic. And that was enough to let her know of the potential dangers said rituals presented.

Since that day, she had found herself secretly trailing Sirius whenever the opportunity presented itself. Watching him in class for any sign he was up to something untoward, sneaking out of the common room late at night to try and track his nighttime movements, even sitting closer to him and his friends than she normally would have, attempting to overhear any plans he might let slip while relaxed and conversing with them.

As a result of her constant and unpredictable disappearances, her friends were all under the assumption that she was sneaking off to see a boy, including Sev. That had been a _fun_ few conversations.

She hadn't told her best friend nor anyone else, especially any of her professors, what she had overheard. Her reason being that it would be her word against that of another student and a professor. But more so than that, she had remained silent for fear of revealing herself and what she knew to Slughorn and Black.

Even as she had followed the younger of the two, Lily couldn't quite bring herself to understand why it was that Slughorn had agreed to take part in such a transaction. While it was true the man liked to play favorites, and that he did tend to give her an uneasy feeling with how he would leer at her at times, the Potions Professor had always appeared to be a good, honest man. It had been evident to her from his words that he had been concerned by Sirius' request, but then why was it he had eventually agreed? It was quite transparent to all that Slughorn could be a somewhat greedy, materialistic individual, as proven by his constant need to 'collect' talented students and his love of the finer things in life, but to Lily it had never appeared as if he were the type to actually break the law to gain either.

Having followed Sirius from the library, where she had cast the most powerful disillusionment charm on herself that she could manage, she mimicked his path through the twist and turns of the castle, allowing him to unknowingly lead her to the dungeon in which their potion lessons were held and also to where Horace Slughorn's office was housed. Silently praising herself for having the forethought to hide her scent and any noises she may have made while following him through the use of a few advanced and relatively obscure charms she had picked up during her time spent combing the far reaches of the library, she was able to slip between Sirius and the door as it closed without either of the office's occupants being any the wiser of her presence.

To say the interaction between the two males had been a brief one would have been an understatement. Slughorn had offered up an unusually large vial (practically a corked vase) of unknown red substance upon Sirius' closing of the dungeon door, which the Black Lord took, offering up a palm sized bag of Galleons in return. Few words were shared between them, Slughorn looking at the unassuming bag like it was, well, gold, and Sirius in too great of a hurry to bother with much more than the obligatory pleasantries.

As quickly as they had come, Lily followed Sirius, who had conjured a hooded robe before leaving Slughorn to count his money, from the dungeons and out into the darkening evening. The smell of rain, damp earth and foliage mixing with the many woodsy, unidentifiable scents and smells carried on the gentle wind pulling at their clothing and, in Lily's case, her hair.

The first generation witch hesitated for a fraction of a second before she followed the hooded teen into the aptly named forest. So caught up in her stalking was she that the thought of retrieving a professor and leading them to where the Black Lord had disappeared into the dense woods had never crossed her mind. Had she been thinking properly, now or even over the past six days since Sirius' return, she would have realized that it was so much more than her need to bring a lawbreaker to justice that drove her to such rash actions as trailing a possibly dangerous individual for days, and continuing to do so until she followed him into the very real dangers the Forbidden Forest presented. No, it was much more than her sense of justice which led her like a lamb to the slaughter.

It was her insatiable curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

A need to know all that she could about magic—both light and, though she would never admit it, even to herself, the darker, more frowned upon branches of magic that led her. It was the devil disguised as an angel upon her shoulder which drove her hunger to learn, discover—submerge herself in all that magic had to offer. It was a need that had led to her almost being sorted into Ravenclaw—a hunger which, had the hat not warned of the dangers such a move would place her under, would have seen her wearing the green and silver of Slytherin instead of the red and gold of Gryffindor.

For how long she had followed the black silhouette that was Sirius, Lily was unsure. Afraid that casting the tempus charm would expose her to the hunted, she had only the gradual transition from the barely distinguishable tint coloring the sky when they had first ventured outside, to the much fainter shade of the sun's rays that were now feebly fighting their way through the dense canopy encasing them in shadow from overhead.

Stalking fluidly over and through the treacherous shrubbery and thick foliage clawing at her ankles, Lily kept what she hoped was a safe distance behind Sirius. Any further and she would have lost him and his shadow blending hooded robe. As it was, with how dark the forest around them had become the further in they traveled, the space between each of the wide, sky piercing trees lessening every few steps, it would have been next to impossible for her to track him down once lost.

Just as the girl was beginning to question her hasty decision to follow him without definitive knowledge of what it was he was actually up to, a slight wavering of light off in the distance caught her eye. However, before she could make out the source of the far off beacon, all traces of its faint glow disappeared, obscured by the tall figure she was doggedly pursuing.

Cursing softly under her breath, Lily hastened forward, her intent to discover what the light was, was driving her to be recklessly loud. It was this, her sudden heedlessness that led to what happened to her next.

Eyes trained on a far off light that continued to escape her, she failed to notice the vast body bearing down on her from the foliage above. The last thing she saw as a vice-like grip latched on to her ankle and her world inexplicably reversed, was a large, hairy form with too many watery, disgusting eyes the size of a grown man's fist, and the many long, tree trunk sized legs attached to her attacker's body.

**AN: Thanks for all the reviews and love. **


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